


Drabble Me Up, Drabble Me Down

by i_got_these_words



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-03-13 15:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18943537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_got_these_words/pseuds/i_got_these_words
Summary: A choice selection of standalone drabble requests from my Tumblr blog.Please refer to the chapter index for details.





	1. TianShan x Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Phone Call**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language; depictions of a high-stress situation; physical violence.

The pit was swathed in layers of slumber, the overhead lights set low as the night approached its darkest hour.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected during the third shift, but this was not it. The silence was unsettling, bordering on sinister.

The soft click of keys. The steady hum of computer fans. The stop-and-start stutter of a colleague snoring in a darkened corner.

Soon after he’d punched in, he’d dealt with two PIs and a neighbourly disturbance. But fuck all since. And the stillness was making his skin crawl.

It was nearing three am, though, and he was due a break. He was about to swivel round in the high-back chair to clear it with his dispatch supervisor when his phone monitor lit up. The emergency line.

Adjusting his headset, he picked up the call and immediately turned his attention to the mapping system on the central screen as it tried to triangulate the caller’s location.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” Guan Shan said into the mouthpiece, frowning slightly when the mapping system sputtered its failure to ping the cellular device.

A rupture of ragged breathing abraded his right ear.

“Nine-one-one,” he repeated, wondering what the statistics were on perverts prank-calling emergency services.

A throaty moan adjourned the breathless rasping, sounding wet and wounded.

“What is the location of your emergency?” Guan Shan tried again, more urgent this time.

_What the fuck?_

Two weeks post training and initiation, Guan Shan’s most exciting call yet had been a GTA that had lasted all of ten minutes – casualties: nil. Although a desk job was not the endgame, moonlighting as a 911 operator whilst he studied for the EMT license exam would help cushion the blow the paramedic training fees were going to deliver to his malnourished bank account.

Running the ATL on the mapping system again, Guan Shan quickly scanned the screen to his left. The list of incoming calls to the county’s PSAP were sparse, a Code Red notably absent.

Just as he inhaled, readying himself to reiterate his opening line, a clamorous clatter rang in his ear, followed by a series of sibilant curses.

“Hello?” The voice at the other of the line, smooth as silk and husky like cigarette smoke, was distinctly male.

Guan Shan ignored the way the fine hairs at his nape prickled. “Sir, what is your emergency?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of an emergency a man at death’s door constitutes.” All facts and no filler. “He’s fucked.” The words were enunciated on a knife’s edge. And sent a chill to the hollow of Guan Shan’s spine.

But Guan Shan had shed blood, sweat and snot over the Emergency Management and Communications modules and there was no fucking way this dickhead was going to throw him off.

“What is your location?” Fingers flying over his primary keyboard, Guan Shan pulled up the live rota on unengaged EMT vehicles. Due to recent cutbacks, there were plenty of ambulances but not enough crew. “Sir?”

A withering exhale. “You’ll have to track the phone. Somewhere in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where.”

Guan Shan ground his teeth, suppressing a sour retort – partly irked by the man’s unhelpful response and deliberate disregard, and partly irked by how erotic he sounded with said disregard. In particular, the way he said ‘fuck’ with the faint, fluid hint of a high-bred accent made Guan Shan’s ears heat up.

“What can you see around you? Any landmarks?” Guan Shan asked as he launched the medical emergencies algorithm, the rapid click-click-click of the plastic keys matching the speed of his heart, beat for beat. He’d never managed a critically-unstable casualty outside of a simulation before.

“Desert. Dirt. A beat-up truck.” Pause. “A bleeding man on his last breath.”

“Can you apply pressure to the wound?”

A soft sound in Guan Shan’s ear suggested a smirk. “Depends. Which would you rather: death by exsanguination or asphyxiation?”

 _The shit?_  “Ex-excuse me?”

The man lowered his voice to a tortured pitch and Guan Shan tensed in his seat. “There’s a gaping, toothless grin where his neck used to.”

_Fucking-A._

Trepidation torched Guan Shan’s nerves as sawdust filled his mouth. “Who did that to him?” Was the perpetrator on the premises? Was the RP in danger? Or did Guan Shan have a homicidal psycho on the line?

A moment passed, the only sound in Guan Shan’s ear the slow, even breaths of a man who wasn’t used to being questioned.

“How green are you, rookie? There’s only me and this shithead for miles in every direction.”

“Tell me.” Guan Shan hissed.  _Tell me what you did, you arrogant prick. And then tell me where you are so I can unleash a squad on your ass._

“I slit his throat,” the raw edge to the voice was savage.

“Why –” Guan Shan clamped his mouth shut before the rest of that sentence escaped.  _Fuck almighty._ With brisk taps, he alerted EMS and the sheriff’s office of the Code Red: Assault in Progress.

He  _needed_  a location.

“What is this, couple’s therapy?” The man sneered. “Why does  _anyone_ kill?”

Guan Shan’s gaze flickered back to the central monitor; the mapping system was still struggling to pick up a cell signal.

“Duty,” the man started, tongue rolling tenderly over the ‘t’ like a lover. “Derangement. Or self-defence.”

_Derangement. Without a fucking doubt._

“Where the hell are you?” Guan Shan whispered, more to himself, fists clenching briefly over his keyboard before he resumed typing again.

“I thought you were tracking the phone?” The almost-stammer in the man’s voice was so slight Guan Shan nearly missed it.

What was that? Fear? Exhaustion?

“I’m trying.” Guan Shan insisted, sending an SOS message to his dispatch supervisor. “But accuracy relies on a number of factors: the model of the phone, signal strength –”

“Figures,” the man interrupted. “It’s a burner. Production lines probably dried up last century. He doesn’t have anything else on him.”

“What about your own phone?”

“He took all my shit. Dumped it en route.”

Growing more confused, Guan Shan pressed his lips together and back-pedalled to triage. “Are you hurt?”

A throaty chuckle. “I’m not dead or dying.”

 _Mother of fuck._  He wasn’t getting anywhere with this dickhead.

Guan Shan startled as a hand landed on his shoulder – it was his supervisor. Muting the line, Guan Shan indicated the spazzing mapping system. “I can’t get coordinates.”

With a grim look, his supervisor took in the electronic log, the Code Red alert, and said, “I’ll work location from my pod. You stay on intel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guan Shan acknowledged the order with a dip of his head and unmuted the call. “Help me out here. I can’t dispatch a unit to fuck-knows-where,” he muttered into his mouthpiece, a cold bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. “How’s the other guy doing?”

“Still twitching.” The words were choppy, the inflection flat. “Listen.” The man heaved a deep sigh, sounding tired and battle-torn. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the last twenty or so hours. And nothing to eat for longer than that. I haven’t slept since fuck knows when. I used the last of my reserves to take this shithead out.” An audible swallow. “I’m tired. And dehydrated. And furious as all fuck. But when his buddy realises something’s up, he’s gonna hightail it to this godforsaken dry land and fuck me up.” An amused chortle tickled Guan Shan’s ear. “And all I got is a rusty switchblade and shitty night vision. Plenty of fucks to give, but not enough juice to fuel ’em.”

Guan Shan’s mouth went from dry to arid.

No way.

No fuckin–

“Who are you?” Guan Shan asked, sounding much calmer than he felt, fingers poised over the keys that would spell the RP’s name out.

The man didn’t need to say it; Guan Shan already knew. _Should_  have known the minute the man had spoken. Not because his face had been on every news station in the country for the last three days. Nor because of his high-profile status.  _‘Plenty of fucks to give…’_ But because of one rainy night with no cab in sight, an exclusive bar that begrudgingly provided shelter, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that kept on tipping. _‘ … but not enough juice to fuel ’em.’_

A night that should have been forgettable, but wasn’t. Touches that should have remained anonymous, but hadn’t. Masks of sultry indifference that should have stayed in place, but had slipped, slipped, slipped.

Two years on, and every rainstorm was sweet torment on Guan Shan’s senses; a reminder of a night that shouldn’t have happened, of a risk he shouldn’t have taken.

“He Tian,” came the haggard reply. “My father is the State Prosecutor.”

Grabbing his radio gear, Guan Shan hit the transmission button and barked, “This is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five, Delta Havana, do you copy? Over.”

A sizzle of static burst through the radio’s speaker. “Delta Havana receiving. Over.”

“The twelve-nine on the Code Red is a twelve-one. Over.”

“Repeat dispatch. Over.”

“The Code Red is a twelve-one. I repeat, the Code Red –” Guan Shan dropped the radio-speak “– is the Chief Prosecutor’s son. Immediate threat to life. Over.”

“Ten-four. Do we have a location? Over.”

 _Fuck._ “In progress. Over.”

“Ten-four. Standing by. Over.”

He Tian laughed a little, but the sound was a dry and ragged thing. “That was… kinda hot, rookie.”

“Look, we’re gonna find you.” Sifting through the notes he had taken so far, Guan Shan said, “You mentioned a truck.”

“Yeah,” He Tian replied wryly. “But I can’t drive stick.”

Had the circumstances been different, Guan Shan might have rolled his eyes. “The suspect picked this specific location. It isn’t random. He would have needed to find his way back. Is there a navigation system in the vehicle?”

He Tian hummed in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I’ll check.” There was a rustle of movement, punctuated by a pained grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

 _Shit._  He was hurt. Running only on adrenaline, it wouldn’t be long before He Tian crashed.

“Take it easy,” Guan Shan instructed. “And stay on the line. How many accomplices does the suspect have?”

“I only ever saw one other guy. He wanted to give my dad another day to cough up the ransom. But this shithead here said he was done babysitting.” An obnoxious creak of unoiled hinges screeched into Guan Shan’s ear. “Brought me here to put a bullet in my head.”

As Guan Shan fed the information electronically to the police coordinator, he added the relevant codes to indicate armed perps and firearms at the scene.

“Fuck yeah, rookie. Good call.” He Tian chuckled. “There’s a marked map here. And a Gatorade.”

With He Tian relaying the approximate longitude and latitude over the phone, Guan Shan was able to zero in on a location on the mapping system. He picked up his radio phone.

“Delta Havana, this is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five. Over.”

“Go ahead, Oscar. Over.”

“We need to mobilise a chopper. Over.”

“Ten-four. What are the coordinates? Over.”

Once he’d rattled them off, Guan Shan sent an urgent message to his dispatch supervisor to authorise his request for air support; it was the quickest and safest way to reach that far in the desert this time of the night.

The mapping system refreshed itself and a green dot appeared on the screen, zinging its way to the red dot in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where. ETA seven minutes.

“He Tian,” Guan Shan began, “there’s a helicopter on its way.”

But He Tian appeared distracted. “Uh-huh.”

“I still need you to stay on the line –” A deafening bang blasted through the headset. “Fuck! What was that? He Tian?” Right ear ringing, Guan Shan checked that the call hadn’t dropped.  _“He Tian?”_

_Fuckfuckfuck._

He slammed down the transmitter button on his radio. “Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five to Echo Gold, do you copy? Over.”

“Echo Gold receiving. Over.”

“Shots fired.”  _Fffuuuckk._ “I repeat, shots fired.”

“Ten-four. We’re still in the air. Do you still have comms with the RP? Over.”

Guan Shan worked the muscles in his jaw. “Negative,” he bit out.

Fucking  _shit._

The helicopter was still three minutes out. And that was assuming they’d find the right location straight away. And a suitable place to land.

Running tremulous hands through his hair, Guan Shan stopped himself from wreaking havoc on the curved desk and the console before him.

So close, he thought.  _We were so fucking close._

A soft murmur in his ear had Guan Shan stilling. “He Tian?”

Another pained grunt.  _Oh sweet fuck._

“Sorry,” He Tian said, his voice like smoked honey. “I dropped the phone. I told you I couldn’t fucking drive stick. I think… I think the engine backfired.”

Guan Shan laughed despite himself. Fully aware that the audio was being recorded, and the transcript may be used in evidence, he let out a low growl, laden with chocked emotion. “You owe me another Johnnie Walker, you dickhead.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Glossary of Terms ※※※
> 
>  **PI:** Public Intoxication  
>  **GTA:** Grand-theft auto  
>  **EMT:** Emergency Medical Technician  
>  **RP:** Reporting person  
>  **ATL:** Attempt to locate  
>  **PSAP:** Public-safety answering point; a call centre dedicated to handling the emergency telephone number(s) for police, firefighting, and ambulance services.  
>  **EMS:** Emergency Medical Service  
>  **12-9:** Assault in progress  
>  **12-1:** Kidnapping  
>  **10-4:** Understood  
>  **ETA:** Estimated Time of Arrival  
>  **Comms:** Communication
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> I pulled this entire thing out of my ass. The procedures, regulations and jargon are in no way meant to accurately depict their real-life counterparts.
> 
> Thank you for reading! And please consider leaving me a line below x


	2. TianShan x Corporate AU x "Tastes Like Candy"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Corporate AU x "Tastes Like Candy"**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit sexual content.

“Mmm. Tastes like candy.” Dimmed lights. Dark corners. Deft hands. “Forty percent.”

“With the conversion rate as it is? It would barely be worth our while.” The tug of a shirt. The trace of a timeless aftershave mingling with his own. The tantalising trail of a wet tongue against his heated skin. “New coffee beans. Caramel-flavoured. My secretary is  _obsessed._ ”

“Forty percent and we’ll double the interest rate for the first quarter.”

A grunt as the back of his thighs hit the walnut and ebony executive desk.

“Just the first quarter?”

A nip at his earlobe.

“The returns’ll pick up. First quarter only.”

Trying to find purchase, his slick hands slipped over the glazed surface of the desk.

“You mean, the returns  _might_ pick up.”

Guan Shan bit back a gasp as He Tian grabbed the underside of his thighs and effortlessly hauled him onto the desk.

“Yeah,” He Tian growled into his ear. “Just like how I  _might_  fuck you on this overpriced hunk of wood.”

Pulling back, Guan Shan looked up at He Tian. Cocked a brow. “I’m sure it’s  _my_ turn to fuck you.”

He Tian leaned forward to pepper a path of kisses along Guan Shan’s jawline. “Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s my night.”

As his tailored jacket slipped off his shoulders, Guan Shan took hold of He Tian’s belt and started to unbuckle it. Unbuttoned the slacks. Unzipped the fly.

“You said that last time,” Guan Shan insisted. He slid a hand into He Tian’s designer boxer briefs. Cupped his balls. Brushed against his taint.

Humming his approval, He Tian straightened so he could undo the remaining buttons on his fitted shirt. Shrugged out of it. “Nope. Last time I had my tongue up your ass, not my dick.”

Eyes closing as He Tian started to suck on the sensitive skin behind his ear, Guan Shan tilted his neck to the side. Tightened his grip on He Tian’s balls. “Let me top.”

“I’ll let you ride me,” He Tian offered instead.

“Forty-five percent and you can have first dibs on the Ruger and Moss accounts.”

Ridding Guan Shan of the lowcut waistcoat, He Tian looked up at him, grey eyes glimmering. “I thought we weren’t bartering sex.”

“We aren’t.” Guan Shan curled an arm around He Tian’s neck. Pulled him close. Skimmed a hot palm up his hard cock. “Forty-five percent  _and_  I’m topping tonight.”

“Ruger and Moss,” He Tian conceded with a nod. Unsnapped the clasp on Guan Shan’s pleated pants. Yanked them down. “Whoever cums first, bottoms.”

“Fuck, no. You always play dirty and – ”

A collision of mouths. The caress of one tongue against another. A cacophony of moans.

“Mmm.” He Tian whispered against Guan Shan’s lips. “What kinda coffee did you say it was?”

“Caramel. Organic shit.”

“Orgasmic caramel. I could get used to this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> He Tian and Mo Guan Shan in suits, crisp and tailored-cut, is just so... hot. Kudos if you agree ;)


	3. TianShan x Alt Chapter 285

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Alt Chapter 285**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language; suggestions of intimidating behaviour and bullying.

He was fucking ecstatic. And it showed.

In the way his steps had a slight skip to them. In the way a silly smile kept tugging at his lips. In the way his right hand kept drifting from his side, seeking a companion in the smaller, slender hand currently nestled in the pocket of Mo Guan Shan’s soft, worn sweatpants.

 _Don’t,_ He Tian cautioned himself.  _Don’t fuck it up._

_Don’t make him regret giving you this._

He felt his fingertips tingle with excitement as he recalled Guan Shan admitting that he’d considered wearing the pair of ostentatious studs He Tian had previously purchased.  _‘But they’re too obvious’_ , Guan Shan had revealed. _‘They’d be confiscated by a teacher.’_

So, they were now making their way downtown to Tiffany’s, sneakers slapping symphonically against the sun-warmed sidewalk, He Tian’s bound and bounce collocating with Guan Shan’s shift and shuffle in a blend of counterpoise and counterbalance.

A little like their relationship.

“How far is this place?” Guan Shan mumbled, the scowl on his face there out of habit, and not because he meant anything by it; He Tian could tell the difference now.

For instance, the current furrow between his feather-light brows did not indicate displeasure but, rather, deep thought. He Tian had first seen it on a moonlit street court, feinting and fouling because neither of them were ready to face-off one-on-one in a game that couldn’t be buffered by a ball.

“The fuck are you staring at?” A beam of sunlight burst through a break in the clouds and Guan Shan’s scarlet eyes narrowed in a sparkling smoulder.

“I was just thinking…” He Tian replied, the sentence hanging between them as they traversed the crosswalk. “You can’t shoot hoops for shit.” He grinned at the startled look on Guan Shan’s face, revelling in catching him by surprise.

“Fuck you,” Guan Shan growled, throwing his fist back.

He Tian was going to let Guan Shan have it, angling himself so the blow would land against the bulk of his delt. But then Guan Shan froze, colour draining from his face, making the smattering of freckles high on his cheeks more salient.

“What –” Frowning, He Tian snapped his head over his shoulder to see what had caught Guan Shan’s eye. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Spilling out of a corner store was She-fucking-Li, his entourage of dumbfucks trailing behind him, brandishing popsicles and packets of cigarettes.

“Let’s go back,” Guan Shan blurted, already scrambling away.

The anger sizzling in He Tian’s veins spiked. “No.” He threw an arm out, trying to grab Guan Shan by the elbow but a cyclist cut him off. “ _Fuck._  Guan Shan, wait!”

The skin at the back of He Tian’s neck prickled, and he bristled when a pair of molten eyes, banked but brewing, locked with his own. Gritting his teeth, He Tian flipped She Li off before turning on his heel and storming after Guan Shan.

Seeing the tight line of his shoulders and the tension in his fists, He Tian followed a few steps behind Guan Shan, letting him walk off whatever emotion he was struggling with right now.

 _One day, She Li,_  He Tian promised.  _I’m gonna fuck you up beyond recognition._

As Guan Shan veered off the path that would take them back to school and headed towards a nearby park, He Tian plotted all the ways he was going to make She Li pay. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and shot Jian Yi a quick text about collecting their bags. Ignoring the barrage of whirrs as his phone vibrated with incoming messages, He Tian looked up to find he’d lost Guan Shan.

_Ah, dammit._

He sighed, scanning the sparse crowd on an afternoon stroll through the city park, hoping that Guan Shan wasn’t trying to purposely evade him. He acknowledged that Guan Shan might want to be left alone, but just because he acknowledged it didn’t mean he agreed with it.

He Tian considered calling Guan Shan on his cell when he spotted a flash of red floating above the thick, lush bushes beyond the water sculpture. And he felt something inside him clench, sad and sour. She Li did this to Guan Shan; made him cower and hide from the world.

_Well, fuck you, She Li. And fuck the serpent’s egg you hatched from._

With slow, unhurried steps, he toddled towards the shoulder-high bushes and slipped through an opening between the bifurcating branches, verdant green leaves skimming over his bare arms.

Guan Shan was sitting cross-legged on the grass, plucking foliage from a berry he’d presumably picked from a bush. He muttered something inaudible as He Tian settled down opposite him.

“Huh?”

“We’ll get the studs another day,” Guan Shan repeated, focusing intently on the small collection of berries in his lap. “If you still want to.”

He Tian opted to say nothing, because of course he fucking wanted to. He was livid that She Li had ruined this for them, and he was livid Guan Shan didn’t think He Tian could protect him from a vile snake that was more spit than venom.

The silence stretched taut between them, slackened by the background sounds of birdsong, cascading waters, and bustling families.

Guan Shan levelled him with a look, one that He Tian hadn’t seen before and couldn’t read. “You think I’m scared of him.”

Pressing his lips together, He Tian shrugged. “I don’t know what to think.”

Guan Shan nodded, going back to dusting off the berries. And He Tian understood then; understood that, when the time was right, Guan Shan would tell him exactly what to think.

Lying back on the grass, He Tian propped the back of his head in his clasped hands, squinting against the sun, and studying Guan Shan beneath the sweep of his lashes.

Rays of sun glinted gold off the red in Guan Shan’s hair, coloured his cheeks a sun-kissed rouge, and warmed the wings of the white, silver-speckled butterfly silently perched on the top of his head.

He had never seen anything so beautiful.

He watched as Guan Shan popped a round berry into his mouth, imagined a squirt of juice that tasted both tart and sweet. Then he watched Guan Shan pop another, the blue tinge to his lips making them look bruised and edible.

Lids hooded, he lay like that for a while, staring at those lips as they pinched, puckered and pursed when Guan Shan suddenly snarled, “If you try to kiss me I’ll rip your dick off.”

He Tian smiled, recognising his favourite scowl. In one swift motion, he rolled onto his front and stole a ripe berry from the rapidly dwindling pile. “Question,” he said, smile melting into a smirk as he bit into the fruit, the citrus flow effervescing on his tongue. “How long have you been sitting there thinking about me kissing you?”

The colour in Guan Shan’s cheeks deepened, and He Tian laughed as he was pelted with profanity and flying berries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> In case you were wondering, "he had never seen anything so beautiful" is not in reference to the butterfly ;)  
> Please kudos/comment if you enjoyed this little alternative to chapter 285 x


	4. QiuCheng x Kneel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **QiuCheng x Kneel**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit sexual context.

The soothing melisma in an R&B melody.

The savorous scent of spices, grilled chicken and roasted sweet potatoes.

The strain on his knees, the stiffness in his arms, the sensation between his legs.

He Cheng shivered as the sweat between his shoulder blades slid south, cooled by the fan behind him. The whirring hum was hypnotic, the perfect backdrop to the music swirling in the apartment, to the soft sizzling and the muted shuffling in the open-plan kitchen.

The marble flooring was unkind to him, but he’d trained for this. And, although he couldn’t tell how much time had passed, he knew he could carry on for much longer; he also knew he could stand and put an end to this whenever he wanted. He only had to say.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t want it to end.

Not ever.

So he continued to kneel, right hand clasping the wrist of his left behind his back, the burning in his knees a protest he ignored, the cloth around his eyes a promise of things to come.

_Rasp. Rustle._ The  _swoosh_  of slippered feet.

A warm hand caressed his cheek, fingers skimming the line of his jaw, smelling of coriander, cumin and smoked paprika.

“Dinner’s almost ready. How you doing?” Qiu’s everyday voice was gruff, bordering on grizzly. But when it was just the two of them, when He Cheng was naked and on his knees, it was the growl of a Pagani Zonda R ripping asphalt in an unsanctioned race. And it made He Cheng’s dick melt.

Leaning into the hand, He Cheng swallowed audibly. “I’m okay. A little thirsty.” The hand stilled. “Sir,” he added, a deliberate afterthought. Because the threat of punishment was just as sweet as the punishment itself.

“I’ll get you something.”

The warmth against his face withdrew as Qiu wandered back to the kitchen.

_Swish. Clatter. Slosh._

As a sure hand curled around the back of his neck, He Cheng felt a straw prod his lips. He opened up and took a long sip, quenching a superficial thirst while the strong, sturdy fingers massaging his nape spurred a familiar, deeper hunger.

“Mmm,” he hummed, the subdulcid liquid fizzing on his tongue. “What is that?”

Qiu stroked a callous thumb across He Cheng’s bottom lip. “A new mocktail recipe I’m trying. It’s got grapefruit. You like it?”

“Yeah,” He Cheng replied, his tongue darting out to catch the flavours on Qiu’s thumb. Mint. Lemon. Man. “I like it a lot, sir.”

A single, sharp  _clink_  as glass was transferred to marble.

The hand around He Cheng’s neck uncurled to scratch at the short hairs at the back of his head, while another hand – cooler, wet, but just as sturdy – slithered down to his crotch. Snaked around the silicone. Cupped his balls.

“How’s the fit? Still good?” Qiu asked, cold fingers inspecting the cock-and-balls ring.

Hissing as chilly skin met hot, heated flesh, He Cheng stuttered. “P-perfect, sir.”

“You’ll tell me if it gets too tight?”

“Always.” He Cheng quivered as Qiu swiped a thumb against his slit. Once. And then again. “Ahh, f-fuck.”

The hand around his junk disappeared. A wet sound. A meaningful moan.

“Dessert’s ready,” Qiu whispered into He Cheng’s ear, breath hot and heavy. The sudden proximity made He Cheng jump a little, and his cock jump a lot.

Biting back a whimper, He Cheng bowed his head. Slumped his shoulders. Spread his knees further apart. “Please, sir. Dessert before dinner.”

The hand at the back of his head slid down, tracing a titillating path over the locks of his spine, the teasing a stark contrast to the tightness in his calves.

“We wouldn’t wanna spoil our appetite,” Qiu murmured, his hand already curving around an ass cheek. Gripping. Squeezing.

“We can –” He Cheng gasped as a wandering finger brushed against his hole “– work up an appetite.”

A pause. An R&B singer hitting several notes on one vowel. The tick of a mechanical timer in the kitchen.

Bereft of Qiu’s touch, He Cheng sighed with relief when he heard, “At ease, lover.”

He released his wrist. Brought his arms forward. Slumped onto his left side to take the weight off his knees. “Thank you, sir.”

He waited to see if the blindfold would be removed, but instead Qiu asked, “Do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m okay.” Or, as okay as he could be with a throbbing cock, silicone snug around his shaft and around his nuts.

“Good.” Qiu leisurely swept sizzling fingers down He Cheng’s arm and took him by the hand. Helped him up. Waited a beat til He Cheng was steady on his feet. “Walk with me.”

It was awkward – not because he was in his birthday suit and Qiu was fully clothed, or because he couldn’t see jack shit and Qiu was privy to all his nakedness, but because each step made his hard-on swing, tugging painfully at the restrictive binds around each ball.

Marble soon gave way to rug.

Qiu led him towards one of the couches, but didn’t ask him to sit down. Instead, He Cheng waited as Qiu took a seat, the anticipation making his face flush and the short hairs on his arms stand on end.

The telling  _clunk-rasp-clack_  of a belt being unbuckled.

He Cheng’s mouth watered reflexively as he heard a zipper being undone.

“Yield,” Qiu commanded.

Chin to chest. Hands braced behind his back. Feet spread apart.

“Sir,” He Cheng breathed, his hot, heavy cock twitching and leaking, leaking, leaking. “How may I serve you?”

“You can start by showing me your ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> This scene makes me _sweat._  
>  Let me know if it did anything for you ;)


	5. ZhanYi x Firsts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ZhanYi x Firsts**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit sexual content; explicit language.

There was something about Jian Yi.

About the way he could smile without smiling. The way he could make you laugh without trying. The way he loved without regard. Or regret.

The sand was pale and finely-grained beneath Zheng Xi’s bare feet, groomed by languorous waves into lazy grooves. Each imprint he left was a soft whisper swallowed whole by a symphony orchestrated by a listless sea.

The coastal song was mere background music though, to the melody of gasps, twitters and hushed murmurs. Glancing over his shoulder at Jian Yi, Zheng Xi squinted against the smouldering embers of a defeated sun sinking into distant waters.

Gilded in shades of gold and glimmer, Jian Yi picked up another seashell and dusted it off with a quick swipe and a hearty blow. Held it at arm’s length. Turned it from side to side.

“What you got?” Zheng Xi called out, slipping his hands into the pockets of his worn cargo shorts. For the last twenty minutes or so, Jian Yi had been trailing behind him, feigning more interest in beach debris than Zheng Xi’s attempts at conversation. He wasn’t subtle, and Zheng Xi could take a hint; Jian Yi was upset.

Examining the shell up close, Jian Yi ignored the question as sunlight glinted off the particles of sand in his hair and on his arms, setting him alight.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

Zheng Xi huffed a breath; Jian would open up when he was ready.

As he turned to continue his walk, he reviewed the day’s events, wondering what he’d possibly done to warrant the silent treatment. The last time this had happened he’d deserved it; he’d put what his friends would think of him ahead of Jian Yi.

He’d never make that mistake again.

A shrill screech pierced the peaceful evening and Zheng Xi whipped around to see Jian Yi distressed and desperately flapping a hand.

“What’s wrong?” Zheng Xi hastened towards him and watched as Jian Yi stumbled, feet catching in some stray seaweed. Landing on his ass with a muffled thump, Jian Yi swore as he attempted to disentangle himself.

Zheng Xi stooped low, grabbing Jian Yi’s flapping hand by the arm. “Are you hurt?”

“It bit me!” Jian Yi exclaimed, looking horrified.

“What did?” Zheng Xi asked, turning Jian Yi’s hand this way and that but not seeing any significant injuries.

Jian Yi whimpered. Held his hand against his chest. “The demon inside the shell.”

Sighing, Zheng Xi took hold of Jian Yi’s elbow and helped him up. “Let’s wash it off, just to be safe.”

They walked down towards the shoreline, the undulating waves lapping at their feet and calves, the foam hissing and popping. Crouching, Zheng Xi placed Jian Yi’s injured hand under the sun-kissed waters. Rubbed Jian Yi’s palm with the pad of his thumb. Interlocked their fingers under the water.

“Why are you mad at me?”

Jian Yi pressed his lips together and, when he didn’t look up, Zheng Xi nudged him with his shoulder. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re clearly upset about something,” Zheng Xi replied, giving Jian Yi’s hand a gentle squeeze. “What’d I do?”

Jian Yi made a face. That perfect pout that always made Zheng Xi want to tease it back into a smile so he’d stop wanting to kiss it into a swollen mess instead.

“You told Huan Shu you were free this weekend.”

“I am free.” Zheng Xi shrugged, puzzled. And then it hit him. “Crap. Did we make plans?”

Jian Yi glared at him. Tore his hand out of Zheng Xi’s. Stood up. “It’s just another weekend to you, isn’t it?”

“Hey.” Standing, Zheng Xi took a step towards Jian Yi. “You’re acting like I’ve forgotten a birthday or an anniver–”  _Ah, fucking hell._

The setting sun blazed orange and bright in Jian Yi’s eyes. “The day you said you liked me back.” The orange simmered and swam in tears unshed. “The day we became boyfriend and boyfriend.”

“Jian Yi,” Zheng Xi began, feeling like shit. Placing a hand on either side of Jian Yi’s waist, Zheng Xi pulled him close. Close enough to count the pale, precious lashes wet with sparkling drops that Zheng Xi would be damned if he let fall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry such an ass.” He rested his forehead against Jian Yi’s. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” Jian Yi said, his voice cracking. “I love you for you, not for what you do or don’t do. Or remember.”

_Ah, Zhan Zheng Xi, you shithead._

“How can I make it up to you?” He chucked Jian Yi lightly under the chin. Got a little lost in the colours and constellations in those eyes. “This weekend is yours. Anything you wanna do, we’ll do it.”

Jian Yi bit a trembling lower lip. “Anything?”

Zheng Xi leaned forward to brush his lips against Jian Yi’s. Tasting salt and sun, he deepened the kiss and, before he knew it, Jian Yi was moaning into his mouth.

“What if – _mmm_ – someone s-sees – _uh ngh_ – us,” Jian Yi protested between the kissing and nipping and sucking.

Hooking Jian Yi’s ankle with his own, Zheng Xi yanked. He dropped them both with a loud splash, holding Jian Yi close so he didn’t land too hard. They were soaked, legs tangled and locked, but the waters were shallow enough for Jian Yi to comfortably lie flat on his back.

“What the heck, Xixi?” Jian Yi spluttered, blinking seawater out of his eyes.

Nuzzling his neck, Zheng Xi squeezed Jian Yi’s flanks. “You were worried about people seeing us kissing.”

“Yeah,” Jian Yi replied, tilting his head when Zheng Xi started mouthing along the angle of his jaw. “Now we look like two bodies that washed ashore.”

“I’ll say I found you. Started giving you mouth-to-mouth.” Zheng Xi kissed him. “No one will suspect anything.”

Jian Yi giggled. “Except I have a raging boner.”

Lapping at the hollow of Jian Yi’s throat, Zheng Xi let his hands slither up under Jian Yi’s shirt. “We can’t have your dick giving us away.”

“ _Xixi_.” Jian Yi squirmed as Zheng Xi’s wandering hands started to tickle his sides.

“What?” A wet kiss that tasted of laughter and sun-warmed waters. The slide of slippery tongues. The scrape of teeth.

“You’re making it – _ungh_ – worse.” Jian Yi threaded his fingers through Zheng Xi’s hair. Spread his thighs to hook his legs over Zheng Xi’s hips. Ground his hard-on against Zheng Xi’s crotch. “Mmm. Two raging boners.”

Looking down at Jian Yi, Zheng Xi eyed the way the white shirt had gone translucent in the water. Pink and protruding, Jian Yi’s nipples were visible through the thin cloth. Zheng Xi leaned down to take one into his mouth, enjoying how that made Jian Yi tug harder at his damp hair.

“No, Xixi. I’ll cum.”

“Then cum.” He sucked at it first, through the garment. All tender and loving. Then bit down, taking the nub between his teeth. His cock throbbed with the way Jian Yi arched his back into the touch, thighs tightening around his waist. He let go, sucked at the nipple again. And realised he’d bitten hard enough to tear through the shirt. He snuck the tip of his tongue through the slit as Jian Yi started rocking his hips.

“Xixi,” Jian Yi panted, hands fisting into the back of Zheng Xi’s shirt. “ _Xixi._ ”

Zheng Xi grunted. Sucked. Scraped. Soothed.

“Xixi,  _I want you_.”

The desperation in that voice more than the words themselves had Zheng Xi glancing up.

Jian Yi looked wrecked with his swollen mouth, flushed face and glistening eyes.

“I thought–” Zheng Xi swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I thought you wanted to wait.”

“We have waited. A whole freaking year.” That perfect pout again. “I want you  _so bad._ ”

Zheng Xi growled. Pressed his aching cock into the space behind Jian Yi’s balls, cursing the layers of fabric and denim between them. “I want you, too.”

“I love you, Xixi.” Jian Yi cupped the sides of Zheng Xi’s face. Kissed him softly. Salt. Sea. Sun. “But, I don’t care how horny we are, there’s no freaking way I’m giving you my virginity on a public beach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> These two are just so fucking cute.


	6. TianShan x Cat Shifter AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Cat Shifter AU**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Violence; depiction of death; explicit language; explicit sexual content.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> Please note that the scene after the break is a flashback.

_“Babe.”_

Ugh, if that fucking lynx whined one more time, Guan Shan was going to break something. Or someone. With his nerves already peeled raw by the neurofunk tunes the DJ was rolling out, the caustic-trying-to-be-cute voice was like crystallised salt in the gaping wounds where his ears used to be.

“You know I don’t dance,” He Tian purred in a tone that was both patient and patronising.

The young, platinum-blond man in He Tian’s lap pouted. “You  _never_  dance with me.”

Rolling his eyes, Guan Shan threw back the rest of his drink. Realised too late it was the ombré-hued New York Sour he most definitely had not ordered. Gagged a little.  _Motherfucker._

“Why don’t you get us another round?” He Tian tucked a chrome card into the waistband of the lynx’s cut-out spandex shorts. “And a bottle off their top shelf.”

“Oooh! What we celebrating?”

A knowing smile playing on his lips, He Tian patted the lithe cat’s ass. “You’ll see.”

A shrill shriek splintered through the electro beats. Split Guan Shan’s eardrums.  _Fuck_ , he was going to wring that little shit’s neck til his voice box snapped.

Bouncing off He Tian’s lap, the lynx bounded away. Blew a kiss over his shoulder.

Guan Shan almost gagged again.

He looked up when he heard He Tian chuckle.

“You make it so obvious,” He Tian said with a smirk. Leaned back in the modular sofa. Crossed his legs. The blinking, prismatic lights of the club captured the silver in his eyes. The steel. The seduction.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Guan Shan murmured and made to pick up his tumbler when he realised it was empty.

He Tian indicated the seat next to him. “We’ve got a few minutes.”

With a subtle look around to ensure they had the upper lounge to themselves, Guan Shan stood up and traversed the short distance to He Tian’s corner. As he sat down, an icy, crisp scent of snow reminded him of a lapse of judgement, of a night he’d rather not recall because it only made him want more.

“You don’t like him,” He Tian commented, nudging his half-full glass towards Guan Shan.

Taking a slug of the Old Fashioned, Guan Shan swallowed back both liquor and his last lick of good sense. “He’s an Iberian lynx, for fuck’s sake. What are you doing hanging around their kind?”  _He isn’t even your type._

“The same could be said about us.” A teasing smile. A twinkle in splendent eyes. And a traitorous ripple in Guan Shan’s chest.

He huffed a breath. “You’re guaranteed a web of lies with any lynx worth the tuft on their ears,” he muttered. Tightened his hold around He Tian’s glass. Tried hard not to imagine it was a certain cat’s slender neck. Heard it crack.

“Oh, I’m banking on it.” A Cheshire grin.

Guan Shan narrowed his eyes. “Who’s the mark?” He asked, hoping it was the stubby-tailed tart.

“There’s a leak in the ranks.”

“What kind of leak?”

“The kind that involves jags knowing our business.”

“Shit.” Jaguars were never good news.

He watched as He Tian pulled out a pack of Sobranie. Tapped out a black cigarette. Took it between his lips. The flare from the 18-karat white gold lighter illuminated a face that haunted Guan Shan’s every waking hour, and then some.

“The lynx was sent my way.” A steady drag. A soft exhale. A wisp of smoke. “There’s talk that I’m easily led astray by a hot piece of tail.” He Tian smiled salaciously, and Guan Shan felt his face prickle with memories of that night – panting, pulling, pleading.  _Bite me._

“You sure you want me to take this?” Guan Shan asked. “The leak will be one of your own.”  _A fucking snow leopard._

He Tian’s eyes blazed behind the billowy smokescreen. “They ceased being kin the moment they sold us to the jags.” The smooth indifference in his tone was now a scratchy discordance.

There was something about an incensed He Tian that made Guan Shan’s balls tighten with anticipation. Maybe it was how it reminded him of the way He Tian had scratched, hissed and spat under him.

Trying to clear his head, Guan Shan downed the rest of the drink. “The usual terms apply.”

“I’ll be doubling your fee.” He Tian flicked some ash off his Brioni slim-fit pants. “Consider it a farewell bonus.”

Surprised, Guan Shan frowned. “The fuck?”

“Once the leak is dealt with, I’m terminating our contract.”

_“What?”_

“The Bengal merger is going ahead.” Another puff of smoke. “And you know tigers and lions don’t mix.” Guan Shan stiffened. “I don’t want you caught on our territory.”

“I’m not a –”

“A what?” He Tian bit out, his lambent glare boring into Guan Shan. “A mountain lion?” Grabbing Guan Shan by the front of his leather jacket, He Tian growled. “How long did you think you could fool me? Once I tasted you I knew you weren’t a leopard without spots, or a tiger without stripes, but a lion without a mane.  _A fucking lion_.”

_Shit._

Guan Shan breathed in the redolence of snow, tobacco and smoking wood. “Listen –”

“Shut up,” He Tian tugged at his lapel, reminding Guan Shan of the way claws had dug into his shoulders. Close enough to kiss, bite, lick, He Tian whispered, “You’ll snuff the leak and then you’ll pack your shit and hightail it off Panthera Peak.”

Guan Shan grit his teeth. “And the lynx?”

“The sooner you identify the rat, the sooner I can dispose of the eye-candy.” He Tian’s hand relinquished its hold on Guan Shan. Ran a hot palm down his chest. Rubbed it against Guan Shan’s groin. “The sooner I let you fuck my kitty brains out.”

※   ※   ※

His nose twitched with the piquant smell of blood, panic and death.

_Fuck._

His head snapped towards He Tian, who was now trying to sit himself up. Twigs and leaves tangled in his hair, tailored tux shredded and blood-soaked, eyes wide and wet.

_Dammit._

Clenching his fists, Guan Shan glanced back at the lifeless body on the ground.

The death had been a quick one; it had to be. Jags never went down easy and a fight had been out of the question – not on the manor grounds where anyone attending the charity gala could pass by, and certainly not in front of He Tian. A tussle in human form with a half-shifted jaguar would have been reckless. Although – Guan Shan watched as He Tian winced – stepping in and snapping the jag’s neck had been just as reckless. He should’ve stayed put in the shadows and not interfered. He should’ve let the killer cat rip the snow leopard apart. He should’ve followed fucking protocol.

He was supposed to be gathering intel, doing recon, not rescuing kittens from a catfight.

“You gonna help me up, asshole? Or just stand there looking pretty?” He Tian grimaced and pressed a hand against the wound across his abdomen.

“Why didn’t you shift? You would’ve at least stood a chance,” Guan Shan retorted.  _And I wouldn’t have blown my fucking cover._

“I was  _trying_  to save the tux. It’s Kiton.”

Scowling, Guan Shan snarled, “Your  _life_  was on the line.”

The silver in He Tian’s eyes simmered something spectacular. “Was it?” He asked, the words a whisper, their meaning infinitely louder.

_Fucking shit._

Turning his back on the body, Guan Shan approached He Tian. Crouched. Catalogued his injuries.  _How long has he known? What gave me away?_

“I could ask what a rogue’s doing on The Peak. Why it’s been following me around like a lost pet. How it killed a jag without shifting. But I don’t care about any of that.” He Tian wrapped a hand around the back of Guan Shan’s neck. Pulled him close. The smell of winter. Blood. Arousal. “The only question I have is, would you skin a cat for me?”

The heat in a voice heavy and thick with need. The warmth of a palm sticky with blood and sweat and soil. The chill in eyes so startling they sent a shiver down his spine.

Guan Shan’s mouth went dry. “Yeah. For the right price.”

Humming, He Tian slid the hand up into Guan Shan’s hair. Tugged. Sniffed the side of his neck. “What’s that scent?”

Hot breath ghosting his skin, Guan Shan swallowed a purr. “Amur leopard,” he lied. Because he couldn’t very well tell He Tian he was a motherfucking mountain lion; there was no quicker way to spell ‘mercenary’. “Kicked out of my lepe for not having any spots.”

“Aw. Abandoned kitty turned assassin,” He Tian crooned. “That’s hot.” He nipped at Guan Shan’s ear, leaning back onto the cold grass and pulling Guan Shan down with him. “And the look in your eyes when you killed that jag?  _Sexy as all hell_.”

Just barely, Guan Shan held himself back from thrusting his groin into He Tian’s.

“You’re hurt,” he mumbled, eyeing the oozing wound and the hand pressed against it. Tried hard to remember why getting his dick wet with this particular cat was a catastrophic idea.

Licking a hot, wet strip up the column of Guan Shan’s throat, He Tian said, “Maybe if you kiss it better, it’ll heal faster.”

Guan Shan grunted. Angled his head to give He Tian better access to his neck. Groaned when he felt solid, strong fingers trace the length of his hard cock through stiff denim. “You’re bleeding,” he bit out. “We can’t –”

“I’ve never felt better,” He Tian claimed. “I bet if you suck me off, I’ll feel _even_ better.”

_Fffuhhck._

Guan Shan was  _done_  being reasonable.

He growled menacingly and grabbed He Tian’s collar. Ripped the tux shirt open. Chomped down on the hot flesh between neck and shoulder.

Bit hard.

The motion caused He Tian to arch his back. Hiss. Shudder.  _“Mother of fuck!”_

His blood tasted exactly like Guan Shan thought it would – snowfall and silver, struggle and surrender. And so. Fucking. Sweet.

As Guan Shan lapped at the wound, He Tian’s panting evened out. “Sh-shit,” he stuttered. “I almost came.”

Cock twitching and sac tightening, Guan Shan let his hands wander over He Tian’s chest, over hard planes and soft skin, over shifting muscle and a racing heart.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Guan Shan snarled, a leonine roar almost escaping. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me for  _days._ ”

He Tian’s breath hitched. A purr of pleasure. And Guan Shan almost preened when the flush on He Tian’s cheeks deepened.  _“Do it.”_

Ignoring the uncomfortable throb in his pants, Guan Shan leaned back on his heels. Cautiously pulled He Tian’s hand away to look at the injury the jackass jag had inflicted. “First, though,” he said, licking the blood off He Tian’s palm. “I’m gonna stitch you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> This my first shifter AU and I would love some feedback, guys.   
> Thank you for reading x


	7. TianShan x Prison AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Prison AU**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> All forms of violence that are, sadly, prevalent in the penitentiary system; explicit language.

 

_Fourteen… Fifteen… Sixteen…_

Not that Guan Shan was keeping count.

Fuck, no.

_Seventeen…_

A lustre of perspiration polishing a taut set of abs. A spectre as sinuous tattoos swirled like serpents around sculpted, straining arms. A scintillation of light-lacquered sweat as damp, dark hair quivered with a downward swing.

_Eighteen…_

Squinting against the afternoon sun, Guan Shan continued his light jog, his movements listless and languid. The heatwave made his balls itch, the bright orange jumpsuit stick to his back, and his nape prickle unpleasantly.

_Nineteen…_

And then it prickled for a whole other reason as Guan Shan’s indiscreet regard met a pair of steely eyes – as grey as ash, but as cool as an ice blast.

He Tian held Guan Shan’s gaze as he pulled himself over the bar again – _twenty_ – and then released his grip, landing on the dry, dusty ground with the poise and power of a predator. He accepted the towel a scraggy inmate offered him. Wiped it over his pecs. Dabbed at his neck. Patted his pits.

Five sets of twenty reps.

_Fuck._

Their staring contest came to an abrupt end as a blowhorn blared; yard time was over.

It was day five for Guan Shan. He hadn’t been approached by any of the prisoners yet, but he could tell that wasn’t going to last much longer. Initially, he’d been given a wide berth as the other inmates scoped him out. Seized him up. Determined his threat level. But, this morning at chow time, the pithy comments were louder, more vulgar; the body checks blunter, more vehement.

Squaring his shoulders, Guan Shan joined the stream of orange shuffling back into Block 10 like sardines without a lifeline. It wasn’t until they were indoors that he noticed the four men boxing him in from all sides, trudging alongside him, but not giving him an out.

“You be good now.” The man on his right winked at him, gold-capped incisors gleaming in the dim light. “And it’ll only hurt a little.”

Guan Shan felt his insides clench as he spotted the inkwork on the man’s neck – crossbones and a skull smoking a fat cigar.

_Shit_. Dutch’s boys.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Guan Shan bit out, grateful that his voice didn’t betray his fear.

The brute behind him spoke up, his tone leering and malicious. “Eh, baby, with that ass? You a Cat A trouble-magnet.”

The four men cackled, and Guan Shan’s stomach rolled. His eyes darted over the other forms in the crowd, hoping to spot blue amongst the orange.

“Oi, Dutch don’t like no snitches.” The brute tugged hard at Guan Shan’s earlobe. Twisted. And Guan Shan hissed when it felt like his ear was being torn off. “You think the guards give a shit about a lowly fuck like you?”

“Easy, Hans,” Gold rebuked. “Bossman wants him in prime condition.”

Chuckling, the brute let go of Guan Shan. Shoved him a little. “Hear that? Dutch likes it when the fish fight back.”

Cold sweat collected at the base of Guan Shan’s spine, his heart scrambling to keep pace with a functional rhythm, his brain scouring for a way out.

It was lunchtime, and they were supposed to be making tracks towards the canteen. But when the prison guards started bellowing orders to get into a single, orderly file, the four men slipped through the throng of inmates, leading Guan Shan towards the direction of the showers. The correctional officer stationed at that side of the hallway merely gave Guan Shan’s captors a cursory glance before going back to crowd control.

_Son of a bitch._

How deep were the Dutch’s pockets if he had the staff on his payroll?

They were nearing the entrance to the showering facilities when it hit Guan Shan how royally fucked he was; not only was he outnumbered, but the guards could care less, and the confined space of the shower room would curtail any chance he had of escaping.

_Fuck that._

Spinning on his heel, Guan Shan grit his teeth as he headbutted the man behind him. Bone met cartilage with a sickening _crunch_. A guttural growl. A spurt of blood.

But Hans didn’t move an inch.

_Ah, fucking hell._

“So, that’s how you wanna play it?” A crooked nose bled into a crooked grin.

_“Hans, no!”_

But Gold’s command was ignored.

Guan Shan stepped back, bringing his arms up to shield himself. Only, the brute went for a low blow – a kidney punch that had Guan Shan dropping to the ground, kneecaps hitting the concrete with a deafening crack. Before he could bring his arms back up, a right hook slammed into his jaw, knocking him sideways.

“Hans, you shithead!”

“The boss’ll skin ya!”

“You all fucking saw it! The fish came at me first!”

A racket of raucous exclamations. A cacophony of coarse curses. A series of squeaks as rubber-soled shoes scrambled around him.

When several pairs of hands grabbed at him, clamouring to get him back onto his feet, Guan Shan groaned, the pain in his side so severe it made his vision go white.

“F-fuckin’… let… g-go…” He wheezed, swallowing back the bile that had shot up into his throat.

“You heard him.” An unfamiliar voice broke through the haze of bleeding muscle and bruised bone.

The hands clutching at Guan Shan’s clothes and arms froze. Cautious. Careful.

“Dutch’s orders, Chief. We aren’t looking for beef,” Gold stated, sounding a little unsure. And a lot scared.

“You came looking for it when you touched what’s mine.”

Head swimming, Guan Shan tried to blink through the stars in his vision. Caught a glimpse of He Tian leaning against a wall, hands in his pockets, legs crossed at the ankles.

His voice took on a sharp edge, shredding through the grim silence. “And you begged for it when you made him bleed.”

“We didn’t know –” Gold’s protests were cut off by a jarring smash and a loud snarl.

And another smash.

And another.

_Squish. Crush. Croak._

As the hands released him, Guan Shan willed his eyes to focus, and saw fuzzy footage of He Tian grinding Hans’s face into the concrete floor. Except, Guan Shan wasn’t sure it was Hans, with the face all mashed, blood marring the features, teeth littering the ground.

“You let Dutch know he can look for his Cinderfella elsewhere.” He Tian wiped his hand on Hans’s jumpsuit. Stood up. Rounded up on Gold and the other two men. “The redhead’s off limits.”

A barrage of stammered “Yes, Chief”.

The body twitched as it blubbered a wet gurgle, likely an attempt to acknowledge the dictum.

“Take the shit stain with you,” He Tian snapped, sounding disgusted.

As the men scraped Hans off the ground, Guan Shan righted himself into a sitting position. His jaw throbbed. His knees stung. And his flank burned like a motherfucker.

Dropping into a crouch, He Tian started unbuttoning Guan Shan’s jumpsuit.

“Fuck off,” Guan Shan grunted, his feeble effort to knock He Tian’s hands away making his sore muscles twinge. “I ain’t… your bitch.”

“Let me have a look,” He Tian urged as he pulled back the bright orange garb. Gently, he prodded at a few of Guan Shan’s lower ribs. Stroked a palm down his side. “The good news is you’ll be pissing blood for the next week.”

Guan Shan tried to huff a laugh, but it only made him wince. “That’s… the good news?”

Those grey eyes settled on him, soft but unwavering. And, as the fresh scent of sweat on a summer’s day tickled his sinuses, Guan Shan realised how unjust the mugshot had been.

This close up, Guan Shan could trace the distinct curve of a cupid’s bow. The dusting of freckles on lightly-tanned skin. The dimensions of long, sooty lashes.

“The bad news is,” He Tian replied, taking Guan Shan’s jaw in his hand and scrutinizing the damage, “from here on out, you _are_ my bitch.”

Wrenching his face free, Guan Shan spat, “Fuck you, asshole.”

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first.” An icy smile. “First order of business –” He Tian snatched Guan Shan’s collar and pulled him close. The tips of their noses touched. Their gazes locked. “What’s an undercover cop doing on my turf?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> Fish is prison slang for new inmates; fresh meat.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider hitting me up with a kudos or comment if you thought this was worth a read x


	8. TianShan x BNHA AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x BNHA AU**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Allusions to an abduction; references to discrimination and prejudice; explicit language.

It was way past curfew. But that was nothing new.

High-pitched winds howled and hissed into the night like avenging harpies, hostile and hungry.

Barred windows rattled as blustering gales belted the building. Bitter. Biting. Brutal.

Thunder rumbled, restrained and reticent, unlike the tempest tearing through the city, and Guan Shan watched as an answering flash of light flickered in Zheng Xi’s eyes.

“What the fuck do they want with him?” Guan Shan asked, pissed and impatient. He could feel the charged particles in the air buzzing with Zheng Xi’s rage and he wondered, not for the first time, how Zheng Xi could look so calm and composed as he cracked the skies in half.

“He’s an empath,” He Tian murmured, his voice low, his words measured. Almost like he was talking to himself. It was the kind of tone Guan Shan had come to associate with He Tian reflecting, deliberating, piecing details and drafting plans.

“A low-level empath,” Guan Shan countered, trembling because how _dare_ they abduct Jian Yi. Delicate, defenceless, dramatic Jian Yi, who could drone for hours about the unjust legislation pertaining to Quirk Censorship and Suppression. “He’s practically quirkless.”

A crackle of static.

A brief blitz of purple-white around Zheng Xi’s clenched fists.

The smell of an electric burn.

“He is just an empath, isn’t he?” He Tian turned to Zheng Xi, brows knitting close.

They hadn’t switched the lights on, and the shadows cast through the windows chased each other through the classroom, over the chairs, and into the corners.

“Zheng Xi?” Guan Shan prompted when the silence stretched too long to pass for a pause. “What is it?”

A weighted sigh. “He didn’t want me telling –” Zheng Xi cut himself off. And Guan Shan quelled the urge to scoff. In a world where secrecy was paramount to their survival, the quartet had pledged honesty between themselves – so that at least, in the safety of their circle, they could be true to themselves and to their quirks. “You already know that he can sense emotions, but he can also… augment them. Absorb them.”

“Create them,” He Tian sullenly surmised. “Shit.”

_Mind control._

Guan Shan reeled with the possibilities that that level of power presented. There was no way Quirk Control was going to let that kind of ability roam freely. Unreined. Unchecked. And there was no way the Anti-Hero Association was going to miss out on making it theirs.

“We’re all he’s got,” Zheng Xi stumbled over his words and the static in the air thickened. “He didn’t want you thinking he’d forged our friendship with his quirk and –”

He Tian interrupted with a hand on Zheng Xi’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back. And we’ll make those fuckers regret ever laying a hand on him.”

Nodding, Zheng Xi looked up at Guan Shan, purple shocks sparking in the depth of his eyes. “We can’t get him back without you.”

Guan Shan blinked. Realised what Zheng Xi was asking of him. “I can’t control it yet,” he rasped, afraid but also furious that he’d had to spend his entire life pretending to hone a mediocre hydrokinetic ability, when, really, he was a blood bender. Unrefined, his quirk was volatile as it was versatile.

“But we’ve been working on it,” He Tian added, a soft smile caressing his lips. Offering his hand, palm up, towards Guan Shan, He Tian said, “You can do this.”

_What if I kill somebody?_

Like he’d read Guan Shan’s mind, He Tian offered his other hand too, two palms facing the ceiling. Waiting. Calming. “ _You_ control it. It doesn’t control you.”

Guan Shan hesitated, but he’d had this same discussion with He Tian time and again. When they were alone together, training. And, simply, when they were alone. He knew He Tian was right. He knew he couldn’t afford to be afraid, not now with Jian Yi in the clutches of the AHA.

Gingerly, Guan Shan placed his hands just above He Tian’s, hovering, but not quite touching. He felt the familiar rush of He Tian’s blood. Marvelled at the pull, the push, the beats of an intimate pulse. Sensed its warmth, its strength, its urgency.

He and He Tian must have been standing like that for a while – Guan Shan losing himself in the rhythm of a river of blood as it propelled through the chambers of He Tian’s heart, as it thrummed under He Tian’s skin, and prickled just under Guan Shan’s palms – because Zheng Xi cleared his throat.

“What about you, He Tian?” Zheng Xi asked, electrical currents in the air zinging with exigency. “I know you’ve got the skipping down, but… have you ever travelled with someone?”

Dropping his left hand, He Tian turned back to Zheng Xi. “Yeah,” he said, throwing Guan Shan a tender look. “But only once.”

He Tian had gone through life feigning a subpar speed quirk; his ability to trap time – manipulate it, make it his own – would have made him a prime target for the fuckheads recruiting for the AHA.

“Could you do it again?” Standing from his seat, Zheng Xi took He Tian’s free hand in one of his own. “Could you do it with more than one person?”

A thunderbolt sliced through the darkness beyond the barred windows. The whip of a sonic wave shattered through the wailing of wet winds.

Guan Shan stilled as Zheng Xi slid a hand over his, their palms just shy of being in contact – because no blood bender could know the touch of life.

The tingling electrical tides touring through, above, and under Zheng Xi’s skin made Guan Shan’s heart stutter and, between that and the torrent of He Tian’s blood, Guan Shan could feel his quirk tripping over itself in excitement, the bloodlust so real and raw he could taste it.

“I don’t know,” He Tian replied, solemnly. “But I’ll be damned if we don’t try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> I have never read or watched Boku No Hero Academia so I know that this isn't the most just or accurate crossover. But I did have fun writing it.
> 
> Let me know what you think x


	9. ZhanYi x Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ZhanYi x Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> References to internal conflict relating to one's sexual identity; explicit language.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> This drabble is based on my interpretation of the Arctic Monkeys' "Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?".  
> Also, check out The Vamps - they do an excellent cover of this song.

The vertiginous passage of spectral city lights, vivid and voracious. The near-silent hum of a hybrid vehicle as it navigated through three am traffic. The taste of victory at the back of his mouth like the inside of a sports cup at halftime.

Brooding and unblinking, his cell phone was a polished brick in his palm. Holding its breath for a text that was never going to come. But holding anyway. Hoping.

Zheng Xi repressed a sigh, feeling spent and sore. Nailing his first Stanley Cup did nothing to cushion his come-down from a post-win high – a come-down that was more a crash-down, and a high that made him question the quality of what he was shooting up with. Except, if he was being honest with himself, Zheng Xi knew it wasn’t about quality; there was nothing more raw or unadulterated than being the youngest NHL team in the division and defying all odds to reign as this season’s champions.

But raw did not compare to piquant purity, and unadulterated had nothing on divine defilement; the kind of drug that had Zheng Xi tripping at first sight, and intoxicated at first taste.

“Third building on the left,” he intoned as the Prius steered towards a bank of high-rise apartment complexes.

The Uber driver caught Zheng Xi’s gaze in the review mirror. A question in his close-set eyes. A trace of recognition. They’d barely exchanged two words during the ninety-minute drive, plenty of time and opportunity for the driver to study his sullen profile, the wide-set of his shoulders, the square of his jaw – unmistakeable even through the carbon shell of a wire-caged helmet.

As the car slowed to a stop, Zheng Xi snagged a crisp fifty out of his wallet.

“Congratulations on the Championship,” the driver hedged, hesitant. Likely because the dejected customer in the back seat was nothing like the fierce D-man in the rink, or the fervent player at the postgame conference a few hours ago. “My son is a huge fan.”

Quelling the urge to wince at being recognised, Zheng Xi mumbled a thanks. Realised what a dick he was being. Slipped another fifty out of his wallet. “Do you have a pen?”

With a nod and a fumbled affirmative, the driver pulled a ballpoint out of the breast pocket of his lined shirt. Zheng Xi uncapped the pen and scrawled the Chinese characters that corresponded to his name onto one of the bills.

Handing the tip and the autographed fifty-dollar note to the other man, Zheng Xi thrust the car door open. “Have a good one.”

“Thanks, man,” the driver beamed. “And, uh,” – a pointed glance at the tall building to their left – “good luck with everything.”

Zheng Xi flinched. If only. But all the luck in the world wasn’t going to smooth this over.

He let the door slam shut behind him, teetering slightly because, after a game, his feet were more accustomed to balancing on a set of blades than swaying in an unfamiliar pair of Futurecraft 4Ds. As the Prius rolled away, he swiped a thumb across his phone screen. Hit the last number he’d dialled.

“This phone is currently switched off. Please try –” He hung up, swallowing jagged-edged knots of despair and disappointment down his dry throat.

Strides sluggish, he made his way towards the black glass of the front door, his reflection looming and growing larger with each step he took, his sense of self-worth growing smaller. He let his fingers hover over the metallochromic buttons of the intercom mounted on the wall, debating for a minute. And then thumbed through his phone for the app with the electronic passkey – the one that was issued to him back when the flat on the fifteenth floor was like a second home to him, when the man who lived in it was more than just home.

Zheng Xi flashed his phone over the digital reader and a musical little  _ding_ announced an approval. As he pushed through the unlocked door, his cell jolted in his grip with an incoming call. Zheng Xi’s throat constricted and cut off a breath mid-exhalation.

But it wasn’t him.

The name illuminating his screen reminded him of the late hour. Of how it was way past curfew. Of how, right now, he should’ve been tucked in a hotel bed, trying and failing to get some shuteye, because tomorrow was another long bus ride back to the capital, a champions’ ceremony, a team interview, a fans’ meet. All the things that had once meant something. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what.

Slinking past the elevator, he pocketed his phone – Coach could chew him out later – and took the stairs two-by-two, the drumbeat of his heart dissonant and deafening. When he finally reached that familiar door on the fifteenth floor, he was a little winded, not from exertion or exhaustion, but expectation. The expectation that this was all going to go to shit.

_But I gotta know for sure._

Zheng Xi took a deep, steadying breath before gently rapping his knuckles against the smooth wood. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d knocked like a guest. A stranger. Maybe at the very beginning, once or twice, before he was spending more time here than at his own bachelor pad in the next city over.  

A long moment of silence followed his knock. And, so, he rapped again, harder this time. More urgent. Desperate.

A muffled thump indicated movement in the apartment and Zheng Xi stepped back, panicking because the speech he’d prepared on the journey here now sounded ponderous and pathetic. He wet his lips as the door handle rattled slightly. And cursed the way his own hands rattled even more.

The door opened just enough for the man on the other side to peek through the gap.

“Zheng Xi?” Jian Yi’s voice was a seraphic solo made sweeter by the sleep underscoring his cadence. “What… What are you doing here?”

What  _was_  he doing there?

“Hey,” Zheng Xi croaked. Cleared his throat. Crammed his hands into the pockets of his flight jacket. “You weren’t at the press conference.”

A puzzled purse of strawberry-pink lips. “I don’t… I cover baseball now.”

_Yeah. Don’t I fucking know it._

A soft squeak as the door swung wide open. A sibilant shuffle as slim, bare feet brushed a little closer. An audible swallow as Zheng Xi took in the sight before him.

Jian Yi in nothing but a creased, oversized nightshirt, his compact toes painted a frosty-periwinkle, his mussed hair sleep-curled and longer than had it been when Zheng Xi last ran his fingers through it six months ago.

“Why are you here, Zheng Xi?” The little wrinkle between fair brows made Zheng Xi want to reach out and smooth it down with his fingers. With his mouth.

_I fucked up._

“You know I’m not… good with words,” Zheng Xi began, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every passing second.

Jian Yi tilted his head, perplexed but patient.

“Maybe we could talk inside?” Zheng Xi asked, daring to hope.

Stiffening, Jian Yi looked away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Zheng Xi nodded like he understood, but all he really understood was how big a mistake this was. He knew it then; Jian Yi was going to say no. And the rejection was going to kill him.

“It was all for nothing,” he confessed, because, at this point, he didn’t have much left to lose. “Week after week of drills til we were dead on our feet, skating til we couldn’t stand straight, playing til we passed out.” The vile taste of victory was back in his mouth again, and Zheng Xi’s stomach heaved. “NHL Champions but I’ve never felt less like a winner.”

A small, sad smile on those pink, pearly lips. “I watched the game. It was solid, D-man. You deserve the title.”

_I don’t fucking want it._

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Beseeching, broken, he scanned Jian Yi’s bright gaze. “Not without you.”

A flutter of motion as Jian Yi hugged himself. A flutter of pale lashes fanning downcast eyes. A flutter of Zheng Xi’s battered heart as it braced itself.

“Jian Yi. Please.”

Shaking his head, Jian Yi staggered back. “No. I’m done being your dirty little secret.”

The words kronwalled into Zheng Xi, and the weight in his chest bottomed out.

 _That’s_ how he made Jian Yi feel?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

“You don’t need to apologise, Zheng Xi,” Jian Yi softly interjected. “I know how much hockey means to you – so much that you can’t even be seen out in public with me, an openly queer sports journalist.” He shrugged or shuddered; Zheng Xi couldn’t tell. “I respect that you don’t feel ready to come out, and I would never ask you to do that for me. But all the lies and the secrets and the sneaking around… made me feel like a bad habit. Not a boyfriend.”

A prickling wetness pecked at the corners of Zheng Xi eyes. With a sharp nod, he turned on his heel. But Jian Yi closed the distance between them before he could walk away. Run away. Hide.

Tugging him down by the front of his jacket, Jian Yi wrapped his arms around Zheng Xi, the embrace tight and tender all at once. “Own it, Xixi.  _All of it,_ ” he whispered.

It was over before it began, Jian Yi pulling back before Zheng Xi could snuffle those layered locks one last time.

A glint and a twinkle in a gold-flecked eye. “That’s different. After a win, you usually smell like a bar,” Jian Yi tittered. “Or eau de puck bunny. Tonight you just… smell like you.”

Zheng Xi’s lips lifted with a loose smile at that teasing tone. And fell again as Jian Yi waved a farewell and sidled back into his apartment, the resounding  _snick_  of the latch loud and lasting.

As he stumbled back down fifteen flights, Zheng Xi tapped away at his phone, searching for nearby Uber cabs. He ignored the searing sting behind his eyes, just like he ignored the missed calls and the multiple notification icons at the top of his screen; he wasn’t ready to deal with the aftermath of posting the Instagram video he had recorded at the back of the Prius. All the inevitable the ‘D’ in D-man jokes. Not yet.

But, as he huddled outside the building waiting for his ride, he thought back to how the Uber driver had treated him despite overhearing him come out to the world.

Just another pro athlete his son looked up to.

A sportsman. Not a sexuality.

And the crash-down slowed down to a free-fall til it almost felt like he was floating.

Knowing the PR team was already going to ream him out come morning, Zheng Xi hit the Twitter app on his homescreen and typed out: ‘Lacing up my rainbow skates. See you on the ice. #NHL #LGBTQAthlete #OwningIt.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Glossary of Terms ※※※
> 
>  **Stanley Cup:** The NHL championship trophy.  
>  **D-man:** Defenceman; blueliner.  
>  **Kronwalled:** A signature back-pedalling hit made famous by pro hockey D-man Niklas Kronwall.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> This ship will be the end of me.
> 
> x


	10. TianShan x Studs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Studs**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language.

The soothing crinkle of crepe paper. The soft pop of a box springing open. The slow rustle of metal and velvet and skin.

“What do you think? Subtle enough?” He Tian asked, handling one of the small stud earrings in his palm.

They were certainly black enough, as Guan Shan had requested. Black enough that the stone, tastefully cut and twinkling coyly, could have been crafted from the darkest of nights.

‘Beats the Bvlgari pair you bought before’ was what Guan Shan wanted to say. Except, He Tian would then know he could correctly fucking pronounce ‘Bvlgari’ – thanks to hours spent scouring the internet in search of the earrings and their price tag. That, and Guan Shan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. The studs were not… subtle, exactly. Discreet, maybe. Certainly not dazzling or decorative like their predecessors.

But daring.

And  _defiant._

“They’ll do,” he mumbled, eager to try them and feel the weight in his ears, the cool metal against his skin.

He Tian smiled, but it was small and unsure. “So you’ll wear them?”

“Stop dicking around.” Guan Shan couldn’t understand why He Tian felt the need to prolong this; it was already awkward as fuck. He wasn’t some school girl with her illicit boyfriend, testifying their commitment with gifts and treating their contradictions with kisses. “Are you giving them to me or what?”

“Of course,” He Tian replied, and this time his smile was more his usual smirk. “They’re yours to keep.” In one smooth pull, he removed the backing of one stud.

“And I’m paying you back,” Guan Shan added, even though he’d already made that clear. “I’m not accepting gifts or taking your charity.”

Before Guan Shan fully registered what was going on, He Tian was lifting the earring, leaning towards him, all up in his space. When Guan Shan felt steady, slim fingers swirl around the curve of his earlobe, he shoved against He Tian’s chest.  _Hard._  But the taller boy didn’t budge an inch, almost like he’d been expecting this very reaction.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Guan Shan growled, the hand on He Tian’s chest now curling to fist the tee under his school shirt.

“I’m not…” Wetting his lips, He Tian pulled back enough to look into Guan Shan’s eyes. “I’m not trying to write over what that cunt did. I… I won’t hurt you.”

Only, She Li was the  _last_  thing on Guan Shan’s mind right now.

What with how He Tian’s hot breath had caressed the skin and fine hairs in front of his ear. How their cheeks had almost touched, but not, and how Guan Shan wished they had. And how the smell of him – male, a musky deodorant, and the hint of end-of-the-day sweat – made Guan Shan want to inhale deeper. For longer.

“Do you trust me?” He Tian asked, the gunsmoke in his eyes smouldering.

Guan Shan grit his back teeth.  _The fuck?_

“Do you trust me to always have your back?” The steel in He Tian’s voice sent a shiver down Guan Shan’s spine. Taking hold of the fist in his shirt, He Tian loosened Guan Shan’s grip. Placed the stud in his hand. “This isn’t a gift, Guan Shan. It’s a promise.”

_Yes._

_Yes, I fucking trust you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my take on a studs scene.  
> I would love to hear how you guys think it would go down x


	11. He Cheng x Mo Guan Shan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **He Cheng x Mo Guan Shan**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Discussion of bereavement; mention of physical violence by a parental figure; explicit language.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> There are no sexual or romantic elements to this drabble.

It was the last day of the wake.

The subtle scent of jasmine incense stippled the smoky aftermath of burnt joss paper. A sickly-sweet smell emanated from the wreaths of white irises ensconced around a classically crafted casket. And a wispy, low-lying layer of mist clung to him like a second skin – stifling, smothering, and spliced with the streaming tears of mourners that had been and gone.

All but one.

Across the courtyard, through the murk of mist, He Cheng could make out the defeated outline of a boy that had lost without being given a chance to fight. The slump of slender shoulders, the slackening of long limbs, the stooped head of hair that was red like roses.

And violence.

And love.

A figure that He Cheng had come to recognise over the week of the wake, shrouded in a poorly fitted suit jacket that had passed through too many owners, its padding perched like a burden on brittle shoulders, the black cloth binding a boy to a grief he didn’t know how to bear.

Debating for a tense minute whether to, yet again, leave the boy to his dolour and demons, He Cheng tugged at the tie around his neck. Tracked the path of a cinnamon sparrow pecking at the candles at the altar. Tongued at the scab splitting his lower lip – courtesy of a bereaved father who only knew how to blame. Break. Banish.

Maybe it was because the funeral was tomorrow. Maybe it was because the house was empty and, out here at least, he would have some company. Maybe it was because he was curious. Curious about this boy who, on the first day of the wake, had mumbled his condolences about a student he had shared some classes with. But had since been as permanent a fixture as the outdoor furniture. Too crestfallen to just be a classmate. Too fractured to just be a friend.

_Fuck, little brother, what have you gone and done?_

Steeling himself, because emotions were messy, complex things he rarely had time and never any tact for, He Cheng strode towards the boy, letting the heels of his Angelo Galasso dress shoes click against the concrete in forewarning. He sat down on the double-woven rattan couch, a comfortable distance away from the boy who had yet to indicate he’d registered someone approaching.

Guan Shan.

That’s what he’d said his name was.

Mo Guan Shan, who wore a threadbare mask of withdrawn indifference. Whose red-rimmed eyes were wet but not weeping. Whose pallid lips were pinched in a stern seam lest they let loose a sermon on sorrow and suffering.

“You can say it, you know,” He Cheng ventured, his voice incongruous in the quiet.

A pair of scarlet eyes slid towards him, dark and disinterested, and then slid away again, staring at something in the distance. Or simply just staring. Unseeing. But seeking.

He Cheng tried again. “You can say he was a dick. A selfish bastard.” He shrugged. “I find that it helps.”

The boy remained still, the only sign of life the slight rise and fall of his chest with each shallow breath. The stilted silence that followed was intolerable, and more constricting than the tight collar around He Cheng’s neck.

Shit. This was so far out of his comfort zone.

When Guan Shan finally blinked – a slow-moving motion that had He Cheng wondering if he was going to open his eyes again – he intoned, “I tried that. It doesn’t work.”

And that voice, sanded clean off all emotion, sliced through the narrow gap between He Cheng’s left fifth and sixth ribs. A gap that should have been guarded and fortified, but the tone was too familiar, and reminded him of his kid brother and a pet that had perished.

“You’re angry,” He Cheng stated with a nod. Anger was good. It was cleansing and centring. Not like sadness, an emotion too chaotic and confusing to be anything but a debility. “You ever trashed a car?”

A subtle narrowing of a pair of bloodshot eyes.

“It’s therapeutic.” Digging the Lambo’s touch key out of his pocket, He Cheng placed it on the couch seat between them. Decided it was more worthwhile that the kid get his closure than He Cheng sell the car at the auction tonight. “But don’t take my word for it. His Veneno’s in the garage round the back.”

And if Guan Shan chose not to take his anger out on the vehicle, He Cheng wouldn’t be all that surprised. He’d be even less surprised if the car was a little lighter come morning. Perhaps the gym bag in the trunk would go missing, or the pair of sunglasses in the glove box disappear, or, maybe, the Burberry scarf in the backseat would find a new neck to warm.

Unless Guan Shan’s neck was one it had warmed before, and wrapping itself around him would feel like coming home.

With a deep breath of floral ash, He Cheng stood up. Straightened his jacket. Started to slink around the six-seater couch towards the stone path that would take him to the house.

“Wait,” Guan Shan called out, only it was barely a whisper.

So He Cheng waited, counting down the seconds in time with a tensing, ticking, telltale jump in Guan Shan’s jaw.

“Why would you…”

When that sanded down voice trailed off, He Cheng spoke up. “This isn’t for you. It’s for him. Because he _is_ a dick. And a selfish bastard.” He felt the twitch of tortured smile tug at his lips. “But he’s also my brother.”

As Guan Shan slumped back into the seat, He Cheng turned away. His strides were long and loping, his destination so much further away than the house in the periphery of his vision led to believe. Fishing out his phone out of his breast pocket, he swiped through to the unsaved number in his contacts list. Skimmed through the multitude of messages he had sent to it – all of them unread. But it was the last connection he had with his brother. And, damn, if this didn’t feel like the only way to keep it alive.

With an exhale, he tapped out a text.

‘You left something behind, little bro.’

And, through a film of fine mist, He Cheng looked back at Mo Guan Shan. At this boy with emotions worn on his sleeves but never spoken on his lips. A boy who was trying to grieve but didn’t know how. A boy who had been kept hidden from him. Their father. Their world.

His little brother’s secret. And now He Cheng’s too.

His phone pinged an alert.

‘I’ll be back for him. Look after him til then.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> So, He Cheng x Mo Guan Shan can only ever be a platonic ship in my fics/drabbles, but I didn't think that should deter me from exploring their relationship in a non-canonical setting.
> 
> Please consider dropping me a kudos if you enjoyed this work. And I would love to hear your thoughts about this ship x


	12. TianShan x Model AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Model AU**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> References to sexual misconduct (although no actual sexual abuse); mentions of both racial and colour discrimination; descriptions of crimes relating to extortion and theft.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> Although this drabble takes place in NYC, street names and settings are based on fictional locations.
> 
> There is some commentary here about the socio-economic status of Chinatowns in parts of North America. Please note that this is not intended to provide an accurate, real-life representation.
> 
> There is also much commentary about the modelling industry – in particular, there are remarks and observations made about ‘beauty standards’ and ‘the ideal body’. Although these views have been challenged in recent years, the industry is slow to evolve and, as such, these comments are not wholly inaccurate.

Five miles later and he was still wound tighter than a sportsman’s balls in an ice bath.

 _Fuck it._ If he ran anymore, he was going to hurl.

Calves aching, he slowed to a sprint as he climbed the steps leading up to one of the many brownstones lining Belgrave Street in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. He unlocked the front door. Jogged a steady pace up two flights of stairs. Willed his heart to quit its stress-induced jackhammer rhythm.

There was no fucking way they were going to make rent this month.

As he let himself into the apartment, zen tunes and artificially chilled air rolled over him like a tranquil arctic wave, cooling the layer of perspiration clinging to him under his compression shirt.

“Perfect timing!” was all the warning he got before Jian Yi – clad in yoga gear and a sweatband – careened into his side and snapped a couple of selfies.

Rolling his eyes, Guan Shan peeled a sweaty Jian Yi off himself before circling the breakfast bar and yanking the refrigerator door open.

_Great._

They were out of Powerade. And – given the bare, bleak state of the shelves – out of most things.

He snagged Jian Yi’s half-empty Roar Organic off the kitchen counter and chugged the rest of it down. Spluttered. Gagged.

Without looking up from his phone, Jian Yi remarked, “It’s an acquired taste.” He tapped away at his screen and mumbled, “Working out with bae. Hashtag fit fam. Hashtag flex Friday.”

“It’s Saturday,” Guan Shan cut in drily, eyeing the overripe bananas on the fruit stand and wondering how long it would be til they could next afford to stock up on groceries.

“There’s something icky about the way ‘sweaty Saturday’ sounds, though, right?” Jian Yi glanced up at him then and, taking in the expression on Guan Shan’s face, warily asked, “What’s wrong?”

Guan Shan filled a tall glass with water from the dispenser attached to the fridge. Downed it in one go. Filled it again.

Avoided Jian Yi’s questioning gaze.

“Guan Shan?”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Guan Shan turned to the ceramic sink and dunked the rest of the water over the back of his head and neck. Cold. Cutting. Blunt. “We’re broke.”

“What?”

“He emptied the accounts last night. Took every last fucking cent.”

“Huh?” A soft, stuttering sound. “Why… We paid him this month’s dues, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. But he _owns_ us, Jian Yi. And _we_ own fuck all. Not our savings. Not the paychecks we bring in. Not even the clothes on our backs.” Guan Shan growled, flinging his glass into the sink. He watched it crash, crack, _shatter._

Like the shaky dreams of two boys who grew up in the slums of the East Coast, drifting from one impecunious, crime-ridden Chinatown to another.

“So what now?” Jian Yi’s bare feet pattered a panicked pace on the hardwood floor. “We go under again?”

“Fuck that. I’m done running. Done looking over our shoulders and sleeping with one eye open.” Guan Shan fisted his hands. Breathed in deep. Added, _sotto voce_ , “He’d just find us again anyway.”

“So we pick ourselves up. Like we always do.”

“We need to be smarter about this.” Guan Shan tracked his childhood friend’s movements as he jittered around the coffee table. “No more paper trails. He’s got tabs on all the jobs we take and how much we should be raking in.”

Jian Yi nodded, sweatband in hand and wringing it taut. “Lex said he had some ideas for a test shoot. I could ask him to pay me in cash instead of –”

“Lex is a sack of shit who spends an entire shoot eye-fucking models through his viewfinder. You need to stop collabing with him.”

Face reddening with umbrage, Jian Yi glared at Guan Shan. “He’s a _professional_ and would never –”

“Yeah?” Guan Shan leaned against the sink, folding his arms. “Prove me wrong then. Tell me he’s never suggested nude shots.”

Jian Yi visibly stiffened. Muttered, “He said they would be tasteful.”

“The only thing he’ll be tasting is my fist in his toad-ass face.”

The skittish pitter-patter of feet merged into an affronted march as Jian Yi stormed over to Guan Shan. “Why do you always treat me like I’m some clueless tart?”

“It’s togs like him who –” Guan Shan broke off when he noticed Jian Yi’s shoulders tremble. Hurt. Rancour. Regret. _Ah, fuck._ “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just… stressed out.” _And I’m taking it out on you._

Guan Shan knew Jian Yi was a fucking knockout with his fluid hair and flawless skin that set the bar impossibly high, and fluent legs that set it even higher. Despite his runway looks, however, big brand names tended to turn him down with a polite ‘not what we’re looking for’.

Translation: Jian Yi wasn’t White enough.

And being relegated to a catalogue model paved the way for the industry’s predators to attempt to entice him with sketchy ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ projects or photoshoots.

 _Shit._ Guan Shan hated it when they fought.

“I’m only trying to look out for you, Jian Jian.” Guan Shan said, the old nickname a familiar twirl on his tongue.

“Dick,” Jian Yi replied, closing the distance between them and resting his forehead against Guan Shan’s chest. A resigned sadness suffused his voice. “When does it end?”

The silence that ensued bristled with the harsh reality before them, and buzzed with the remnants of a history that shackled them to their past.

A zen melody. The hum of the central AC unit. The thrum of the freezer fan.

Except, all Guan Shan could hear was the honking of beat-up sedans getting nowhere fast. The haggard howls of stray, hungry dogs. The hoarse cries of even hungrier children.

“I’ll sell the bike,” Guan Shan whispered into Jian Yi’s hair. “That should see us through to the end of next week, at least.”

“But you love that bike.”

“It’s a bitch to maintain,” Guan Shan lied. Blatant. Obvious.

And Jian Yi, his brother by a bond that ran deeper than blood, shuddered with the effort not to call him out on it.

※   ※   ※

Freshly showered, shaved and groomed, Guan Shan tugged on sweatpants and a plain white tee as he pulled up the details for the open casting call on his phone.

**HΞNCH APPAREL : SWIMWEAR LAUNCH 2020**

Male Models Required

Minimum Height 5’10

HΞNCH Studios, Chelsea Gardens, West Village, NYC

Saturday, August 7th

2pm onwards

@henchapparel

Guan Shan was no iron game newb, but his fiery red hair and pale-as-all-fuck complexion meant that, despite his physique, he didn’t quite make the cut for a fitness or underwear model.

But this audition wasn’t about making the cut.

Since Jian Yi had only just hopped into the shower, Guan Shan left him a sticky note about needing to run some errands. He ignored a twinge of guilt as he shoved his comp card and portfolio into a backpack. Headed out of the apartment. Navigated the subway to Chelsea Gardens.

Jian Yi didn’t need to know that, in addition to surrendering their accounts, they had ten days to come up with a further fifty grand.

HENCH Studios spanned fifteen floors in a sky-kissing, high-rise multi-storey, and – despite being a whole forty-five minutes early – the garrulous lady at the main reception desk informed him he was number one-hundred and seventy-two.

Well, fuck. There went the rest of his afternoon.

Candidate pass and application form in hand, he made his way to the expansive hall housing the other one-hundred and something models: Powerlifters in armhole tanks with spray-tanned sinews and plenty of side pec on display.

Typical.

And being the only redhead in a twine of dark locks and beach blond hair was a trend he was used to.

Picking an empty corner, he settled down and filled in his form. Fucked about on his phone. Munched on a leftover energy bar he found in the front zip pocket of his backpack.

It was almost half five when a young woman entered the room and called out his number. Once he’d handed over his paperwork, she introduced herself as the junior production assistant and shepherded him up a few floors to a white-walled assembly room bustling with activity.

Bronzed, buff bodies in various states of undress being measured up, photographed and interviewed.

“Prototypes are behind the screen,” Jr. PA pointed out, indicating a folding partition with gauzy panels. “Let’s have you in the boxer swim trunks first.”

Guan Shan nodded an affirmation. Joined a few other models behind the screen as they stripped and poured themselves into scant pieces of fabric.

Rifling through electric blue trunks, Guan Shan selected a pair in his size. Undressed. Shimmied into them.

They were snug around his balls and even snugger around his ass. But he figured they were supposed to be.

After he tossed his clothes into his bag and emerged from behind the screen, Jr. PA walked him up to one of the photographers.

“We’ll take a few front and back shots,” she informed him along the way. “And we’ll do the same again in the midi trunks before your video presentation.”

“Sure thing,” Guan Shan replied, taking up a position in front of a plain, featureless wall.

Lurid lights. A lukewarm introduction. And layers of professional indifference.

The photographer didn’t offer any guidance, and ten minutes passed by in a flurry of pose, flash, _click_ and _whirr._

When Guan Shan turned around for an over-the-shoulder shot, he felt the skin behind his ears prickle as though he was being watched. Except, _of course_ he was being watched; the production assistant was flitting between him and her handheld tablet, the photographer was snapping stills like they were going out of fashion, and a handful of models stole curious, critical sidelong glances at him – probably wondering what his pasty ass was doing modelling premium athletic swimwear.

But it wasn’t until Guan Shan’s gaze strayed towards the interview panel at the end of the room that –

There.

Front and centre at the long table.

A pair of glacial eyes narrowed in on him. Gleaming. Glinting.

And Guan Shan was distracted by the sight of the man unfolding and rising from his seat, the sartorial suavity of his three-piece suit doing nothing to soften the way his body shifted like cross blades in motion.

He fucking Tian.

Former model and founder of the HENCH fashion house.

Was he – shit, was he walking towards them?

“I think we’ve got enough here,” the photographer announced, flicking through the snaps on his camera.

“Let’s see you in the black trunks,” Jr. PA suggested, but Guan Shan was already scurrying towards the screen.

Was he going to be thrown out already? They hadn’t even interviewed him yet.

_Fuck._

In theory, the midi swim trunks should have been more conservative than their boxer counterparts. But not only did the spandex-like material leave no room for doubt about the size of his cockhead, the fabric clinging to his inner thighs was crafted into a meshwork that highlighted just how little time he spent in tanning salons.

Guan Shan returned to his spot in front of the bare wall, noticing He Tian and a leaner man dressed more casually conferring with Jr. PA. They all turned to him as one when he struck a pose and the camera flashed.

“Hold up,” Jr. PA cut in, looking a touch frazzled and flustered. “Uhm, this is Mr He Tian, CEO of HENCH Apparel,” she redundantly informed Guan Shan. “And Mr Zhan Zheng Xi, our creative director.”

Guan Shan looked up at them both, his regard lingering on gelid, grey eyes. “Mo Guan Shan,” he replied, trying for blasé, because the last thing he wanted to do was leave a lasting impression.

“I’m thinking snow-capped mountains,” He Tian said with a voice that erupted like a geyser hot spring. His icy gaze travelled up and down Guan Shan’s frame. “An Alpenglow.”

“Thermal tights. No shirt.” The creative director tapped a finger against his mouth. “Ski jacket. No pants.”

He Tian chuckled, the hot spring simmering and steaming. “Fuck yeah.”

“Snow boots,” Zheng Xi suggested. “Naked.”

Confused as all fuck, Guan Shan startled when He Tian addressed him directly. “You wouldn’t really be naked, though. That would be cruel.” A sexy-ass smirk. One that Guan Shan recognised from high-end fashion magazines back when He Tian was at the peak of his modelling career.

“I don’t…” Guan Shan stuttered, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s blue balls.” He Tian said, stepping closer and offering his hand. “And then there’s _blue balls_.”

Used to being treated as little more than a human hanger, Guan Shan hesitated before shaking He Tian’s hand. “I thought the casting call was for swimwear?”

“It is.” He Tian gave Guan Shan’s hand a firm squeeze, fingers trailing hot over his palm before letting go. “But you, Mo Guan Shan, are an endless winter.”

※   ※   ※

Finally back in the apartment, Guan Shan locked his bedroom door behind him before letting loose a series of soft, vituperative curses.

Fuck _dammit._

Fuck fuck _fuck._

He raked his fingers through his hair. Rubbed a palm down his face. Cursed some more.

When he felt a little less like he was losing his shit, he unzipped his backpack. Pulled out the unsigned thirty-page contract. Ignored the way his hands trembled.

The exclusivity clause was marked in bold letters. But it needn’t had been; He Tian had been very clear about exclusive rights, the look in his eyes more articulate than the nuances of his words. He didn’t just want Guan Shan to model their upcoming winter line. He Tian wanted him to be the face of their entire winter collection. A brand ambassador.

Guan Shan had never scored so big.

As a HENCH spokesmodel, he and Jian Yi would never want for anything again.

Except…

_Shit._

There was no fucking way this was going to work.

Because, as a brat from the slums with his shaky dreams and shaky morals, he would forever be haunted by the shadows of his past.

Tossing the contract to one side, Guan Shan upended his bag. Watched impassively as multiple cell phones, a 24-70mm Canon lens and a hefty Platinum-cased watch tumbled out.

He picked up the Patek Philippe timepiece. Ran his thumb over the octagonal-shaped bezel, blinking with its complete set of forty-six diamonds. Remembered the feel of the faux-alligator strap coming away from a strong, steady wrist.

The way a pair of rimy eyes had bored into him during the sit-down interview, his comp card and portfolio ignored entirely.

He needed to stop thinking about He Tian.

He needed to shred that damn contract and forget he ever met the man.

And forget how much more breathtaking he was in the flesh than on the glossy cover of the most recent issue of GQ.

Frustrated, Guan Shan growled as he plunked himself on the mattress. Only to bolt upright when something moved in the corner of his eye: a small, black object fluttered momentarily into the air before slinking back down to the bedspread.

Leaning in for a closer look, Guan Shan plucked an unfamiliar business card from between stolen phones.

_The fuck?_

The name – gold, embossed, and overly familiar – was secondary to the shiny, dark ink scrawled over the front of the card.

_‘Tourneau’s. 9pm. I’ll buy you your own watch.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ※※※ Glossary of Terms ※※※
> 
>  **Test shoot:** A collab between a model and photographer, usually to try out new concepts and provide fresh content for their portfolios.
> 
>  **Tog:** Slang for photographer.
> 
>  **Comp card:** A composite card. The equivalent of a business card that is used by both models and actors/actresses. Tends to include a headshot, body stats (such as height, shoe size, suit/dress size, etc), and contact info.
> 
>  **Video presentation:** Often a minute-long video during which a model briefly introduces themselves and poses to provide footage for headshots and side view portraits.
> 
>  **Exclusivity clause:** An agreement between a client or agency and a model where the former party has exclusive rights to the model’s services for the duration of the contract.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> I borrowed ‘Jian Jian’ from the Chinese 19 Days fandom. This is their nickname for Jian Yi.
> 
> Please consider leaving me a comment or kudos if you thought this drabble was as cray as I thought it was lol.
> 
> Love,  
> Zack  
> x


	13. TianShan x Fanart (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Fanart (1)**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language; explicit sexual content; grief.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> Based on this stunning artwork [https://twitter.com/Justucru1/status/1169388800625258496]

Fuck.

He was never going to get used to how gorgeous Guan Shan was.

He Tian wiped at the dribble of drool drifting down his chin as he came up for air. Rested on his haunches. And surveyed the damage he’d done:

Slender hands gripping the oversized pillows bulwarking the headboard – tendons taut, knuckles straining. A shudder starting in a pair of delicately shaped shoulder blades and shimmying down the slope of a deliciously curved back. A rim of pink, puckered flesh, swollen and stippled in slick, slippery fluid. Quivering. Clenching. Quaking.

The neighbours’ outdoor fairy lights, festooning the All Hallows' Eve pumpkins in the front yard, filtered through a film of flimsy curtains. The flickering of white-to-gold-to-pink transformed Guan Shan into a gauzy apparition, aurifying his hair and aerifying his skin.

And, perhaps, if they weren’t so swathed in darkness, He Tian might have seen a scarlet blush sweeping across the top of Guan Shan’s shoulders, embodying a constellation of sun-kissed freckles. Or seen the imprint of his persistent fingers on Guan Shan’s ass cheeks. Or the hickeys he’d peppered on the inside of Guan Shan’s thighs.

Perhaps.

He watched as Guan Shan used a fully-body tremor to mask the way he spread his legs a little further. Arched his back a little more. Canted his ass a little higher.

Complying, He Tian swooped back down. Mouthed at a tightly drawn ballsack, grazing his teeth over Guan Shan’s left nut. Planted a trail of wet kisses up Guan Shan’s taint. Nipped at the sensitive ring of muscle between his cheeks.

“ _He Tian._ ” A ragged breath. Begging.

And He Tian palmed a sumptuously muscled buttock for better access whilst his other hand cupped Guan Shan’s balls. Caressing. Stroking. Squeezing.

He used lips, tongue, teeth to continue his sweet torment on Guan Shan’s hole.

Swirling once and then once again, the tip of his tongue flicked the entrance. And Guan Shan’s growl only made He Tian want to tease him even more.

Shallow thrusts.

In. Out. Swirl.

Never breaching more than half an inch, He Tian swiped his tongue up Guan Shan’s taint before biting into the flesh of one rounded butt cheek.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Guan Shan hissed, quad muscles tensing. “ _He Tian_.”

“What?” He Tian asked, planting a tender kiss over the area he’d just bitten.

A strained whimper. “Stop fucking about.”

“I thought this was what you wanted,” He Tian replied, admiring how the pink bud twitched when he pressed his thumb against the soft spot just below Guan Shan’s entrance. And pressed a little harder.

“No,” came the strangled response.

“You wanted me to rim you.”

“ _No._ ”

This time, there was no mistaking the way Guan Shan’s knees extended themselves even further apart, if only because one of his hands had snaked round, middle finger sweeping down his cleft.

Catching Guan Shan’s wayward hand by the wrist, He Tian nipped at the base of Guan Shan’s palm.

“Touching what’s mine?” He challenged, the hand cradling Guan Shan’s balls releasing its hold to land a swift, stinging smack to Guan Shan’s ass.

Shoulders bunched in frustration, Guan Shan buried his face into a pillow as his startled cry bled into a broken whine. “ _Fuck me._ ”

“No.”

_No, because I hate what comes after._

But He Tian’s cock was a throbbing mess in his boxer briefs. And his balls ached for release. Especially after he’d watched Guan Shan cum twice already, dick untouched.

He’d never been able to do that before; cum just from having his ass played with.

There were many things about the beautiful man before him that He Tian had yet to get used to.

But would never get the chance.

With an unrelenting grip on the captive hand, He Tian brushed his lips against the plain platinum band around Guan Shan’s ring finger.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

Shaking his head, Guan Shan tugged at his trapped arm, back muscles rippling bewitchingly in the spectral light.

“Tell me,” He Tian bargained. “And I might just give you what you want.”

He watched as Guan Shan stiffened, then wilted a little into the mattress beneath them. “Yours,” he lied. “Always yours.”

※   ※   ※

There was a sleepy stillness to the man resting on He Tian’s chest. Or, at least, that’s what He Tian told himself; that the stillness wasn’t unnatural. That the Guan Shan in his bed was the same man he’d proposed to three months ago.

With one arm wrapped around a lean, slinking waist that was as familiar as it was unfamiliar, He Tian ruffled the hair on the top of Guan Shan’s head. Bussed his forehead.

“Do we have milk?” Guan Shan asked, the sleep in his voice cracking the veneer of calm He Tian had called upon the night before. “If you want, I could make us banana oat pancakes for breakfast.”

The first rays of sunrise spilled into the room and, eyes wet, He Tian whispered, “I miss your pancakes.”

“Okay.” A faint, lazy smirk. “Don’t lay it on too thick. You’ll get your share.”

 Swallowing the traitorous sob that sought escape, He Tian said, “You know I love you, right?”

Guan Shan cocked a brow, features now diaphanous in the daylight. “No amount of sweet talk will get you out of walking the dog.”

Except.

There wasn’t a dog.

Not anymore.

Not since Guan Shan had taken her out for a walk one morning, leaving He Tian to rustle up breakfast for a change.

Runny eggs. Cold bacon. Burnt toast. The deafening screech of a vehicle swerving out of control. Screams. Sirens.

Silence.

And the ghost of the man he loved, plucking at gaping wounds that were desperately trying to find closure. A ghost that grew more translucent with every night it visited, oblivious of its nature, and oblivious of the effect it had on the man it haunted.

“We need to start thinking about dates.” Guan Shan, now barely a mirage, bit into his lower lip. “Maybe a winter wedding? Is that too soon?”

Fuck. He was gorgeous.

And he was gone.

He Tian looked up at a God he didn’t believe in, hot tears breaking free. Chest tight. Throat like a vice.

“Not soon enough,” he choked.

A piteous prayer unheard.


	14. TianShan x Shifter AU (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Shifter AU (1)**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language; violence.

Cold, crisp, callous; a typical Autumn night.

The Hunter’s Moon was a blistering ochre, bearing witness to a scene of carnage. The constellation of Capricornus winked its approval, all but writhing in schadenfreude. The stained concrete, cracked in places it hadn’t been at the beginning of the night, quaked as a taurine bulk landed with a flutter of fall foliage and finality.

He Tian flexed his fingers, palms slick with perspiration and blood – some of it his own, but most of it not.

_Shit._

Distracted, he wiped at the sanguinolent spit sliding down his chin. Drank in the sight of the body before him, the start-stop-start end-of-life spasms making the deluge of bovine blood splutter and splash as it gushed through a gaping gash in a thickset neck. And, damn, if that didn’t set He Tian’s salivary glands in overdrive.

_Fucking shit._

As the rufescent moonlight adumbrated a pair of curved horns, the half-shifted bull gurgled and gagged. And He Tian took a moment to appreciate how, even in human form, his auditory senses were honed to every little sliver of sound: the stutter of a dying heart, the song of a desperate breath, the squelch of deflating lungs as they drowned drowned _drowned._

_Fucking shit on a stick._

He took another moment to appraise his wider field of vision, the enhanced stereopsis, how the spectrum of colour had dimmed into dull shades of grey and greyer – save for the blood red of the moon and the massacre.

Exactly what he needed to catch a skittish, red-furred cat.

Except, at this rate, the chances of him making it to the unrepentantly sordid bar on a barren purlieu of the city were shot to shit.

Slipping his cell phone out of the back pocket of his slim-fit Levi’s, He Tian swiped at the emergency call icon on his screen with hands steadier than they should have been. And ignored how the bull’s spasms had dwindled down to an occasional twitch, its impressive size less imposing now that it wasn’t towering over him. Trying to intimidate. Incapacitate.

_Annihilate._

It disturbed He Tian how indifferent he felt.

How he’d attacked without hesitation.

How kill or be killed wasn’t an option, but an instinct.

And how, only half-tranqed, he’d given in to that cold-blooded instinct like it was something he’d done all his life. Or, rather, something he’d been denied all his life.

Until now.

A desolate dial tone in his ear, more deafening than he’d ever heard it.

A flat, facile inflection, less familiar than Qiu’s firm, barbed brogue.

“Are you injured?” Zhan Zheng Xi asked.

“No,” was He Tian’s response, but it came out as a growl. A voice deeper and more guttural than what it normally was.

_Balls._

“He Tian?”

He attempted to clear his throat, but only succeeded in snarling. “I was attacked.” _Again._ “The shifter’s laid out.”

“Why do you sound–”

“I’m by the Southend Lake,” He Tian cut in. Hung up. Took in a sharp, shuddering breath.

Tart apples and pumpkin spice.

Burning wood and bonfire nights.

Drying blood and a destined demise.

Likely his own if his father found out about this. _When_ his father found out about this. Because Zhan Zheng Xi was newly appointed, and any collared shifter looking to please its human owner would be loyal to a fault, and a stickler for rules and regs.

_Ah, shit._

He’d never admit it aloud, but He Tian missed his former bodyguard. Qiu had been a hardass babysitter, but the wolf had never given He Tian crap for being curious about his heritage. About the shifter who’d birthed him. Although, admittedly, skimping on tranqs so that the beast within him could skim close to the surface – close enough that he could take down a barbarous bull thrice his size – would have earned him a smackdown.

_At least._

Fuck knows what his father was going to do. Maybe collar him like a common shifter. Chain him up and throw away the key. Disown him like the bastard, half-breed that he was.

Who was he kidding? Most days, it felt like his father already had.

But the beast didn’t give a shit about any of that.

He could already hear Zhan Zheng Xi’s soft, stealth steps as he sprinted across the He estate towards the lake. Breath ragged. Heartbeat a stammer.

He Tian didn’t need another obstacle in his way. And he couldn’t be fucked with any further delays.

Guan Shan had been avoiding him for a fortnight; the cat hadn’t been in his usual spot at the bar the last ten times He Tian had visited.

And, with the half-dose tranq wearing off, the beast was so _done_ playing hide and seek.

Crouching low, He Tian felt his calf muscles tense. His shoulders drop. And his abdominals tighten.

The beast was itching for a chase. A hunt.

Once caught, his little kitten was going to be fucking _devoured._


	15. TianShan x Shifter AU (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Shifter AU (2)**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language; explicit sexual content.

He pins Guan Shan against a back-alley wall, hands above his head. Using more force than strictly needed, because the cat likes to tug, twist, _taunt_ and He Tian gets off on it. And Guan Shan gets off on fighting back with a hard-on.

“The fuck, asshole?” Guan Shan demands. “I’m at _work_.”

“You call parading around in a thong _work?_ ” He Tian scoffs, stepping in closer and pressing his chest against Guan Shan’s bare back. Grazes his teeth along a tendon up Guan Shan’s pale neck. Snuffles soft red hair.

“They’re shorts! And it’s standard uniform –”

He Tian shoves him against the wall with a growl. “They barely cover your ass, kitten.”

Guan Shan shoves back. “ _Don’t_ call me that.” His powerful tail swipes at He Tian’s head and deliberately misses. “Now get the fuck off of me.”

“Oh,” He Tian murmurs. “You want them off, do you?”

“Huh?” But before Guan Shan can make sense of He Tian’s remark, his wrists – pale and peppered in pink fingerprint bruises – are free. His face almost smacks into the wall when He Tian uses an ankle to kick Guan Shan’s legs out. “ _The fuck are you –_ ”

The unmistakable sound of cloth being ripped as Guan Shan’s shorts are shorn down the middle, the chilly evening air making his balls shrink and his exposed semi shudder.

“That’s more like it.” He Tian hums smugly as he tears up the rear end of Guan Shan’s shorts so that the offensive piece is now in two halves.

Looking over his shoulder, Guan Shan sees that his shorts have wilted around his ass, one polyester leg slipping down to mid-thigh.

“They’re on loan, you colossal _prick_.” This time, his tail doesn’t intend to miss, but He Tian is ready for him. Is always ready for him.

Bringing up an arm to shield his face, He Tian wraps Guan Shan’s tail around a muscled forearm. “You’re right; I do have a colossal prick. I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

Guan Shan snarls, pushing back against the wall. Only for He Tian to crush him against it. Again. “Fucker, I’ve _had_ it with you. I need to get back to work.”

A tender kiss planted just behind his ear. Hot breath laced with honey and smoke. Voice like a fifty-dollar scotch. “Let me finger you.”

As He Tian’s warm, eager hand finds Guan Shan’s cock, Guan Shan bites down on his lower lip. Catches the whimper that almost escapes and morphs it into a grunt. “ _No_.”

Stroke. Slide. _Simmer._

Guan Shan’s grunt melts into a moan. His hips lean in towards He Tian’s touch just as his head falls back to rest on He Tian’s shoulder.

He lets He Tian kiss him then. Open-mouthed. Urgent. Each tangle of their tongues tying a knot in Guan Shan’s stomach.

He Tian is the first to pull back, lips wet and entirely fuckable. And Guan Shan wants to bruise them and bite them and make them _his._

But He Tian has other ideas.

“If you won’t let me finger you, get on your knees and suck me off.”

Knocking He Tian’s hand away from his pulsing, weeping cock, Guan Shan clamours, “I’m at _work._ I’m not even on a break right now. I should be –”

“Okay,” He Tian interrupts with a rumble. “ _Both_ then. I’ll finger your ass and then fuck your mouth.” His hand, slippery with precum, comes up to find a puckered nipple. Pulls. Pinches. “And if I _ever_ catch you in those thongs again, you better hope to fuck you’re already lubed up.”


	16. TianShan x Domestic AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Domestic AU**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language.

“Gonna keep you.”

The words were a slur, their lyrical inflections softened by sleep and slumber.

“Never gonna let you go.”

A hot, hungry mouth seared a soporific path up Guan Shan’s neck. Nuzzled him under the angle of his jaw. Pressed a heated kiss in the soft slope behind his ear.

“Gonna make you mine forever.”

Through the haze of not-enough-shuteye, Guan Shan felt a small smile tug at his lips; the weight of the platinum band around his fourth finger proof that He Tian had made good on that promise already.

And Guan Shan wanted to remind him. Remind his husband that the vows they’d made six months ago were practically a blood oath. Their witnesses a firing squad all prettied up in tuxes and Italian loafers. Their guests a bewildered bunch of civilians they had gone to school with a lifetime ago.

Instead, though, Guan Shan groaned into a pillow. “Shut _up._ Tryna sleep.”

The thick arm around his waist tightened, and Guan Shan could feel the bulge of He Tian’s forearm muscles as they strained to bring him ever closer to He Tian’s heat.

A harness.

A heartbreaking plea.

“You’re leaving me.”

The want and longing in He Tian’s voice took a different tone. One that Guan Shan couldn’t bring himself to ignore.

Sighing, long and deep, Guan Shan turned round. Winced at the ache in his lower back. And bit back a curse when his ass reminded him of the way it had been railed thrice in under an hour.

He studied He Tian’s face as the silvery moonlight seeped through the slits in the blinds, spilling over his stubborn jaw; the subtle, quiet grace of his angular features; the glimmering wetness in his eyes.

“I’m not leaving you,” Guan Shan whispered, his post-coital voice huskier than usual. He was letting himself get caught up in the motherfucking feels and couldn’t afford to. He was shipping out in eighteen hours and He Tian needed to be the reason he came back. Not the reason he couldn’t go. “Before you know it, nine months will –”

“We could have a baby in nine months,” He Tian blurted, hands grabbing Guan Shan by the hips and drawing him close.

_“What?”_

They’d never talked about having kids before. _Ever_. And that was fine by Guan Shan; he’d assumed there was a simple and unspoken understanding between them that they’d make shit dads. Or, at least, their jobs weren’t forgiving or flexible enough to accommodate a family.

Pulling back when He Tian tried to kiss him, Guan Shan asked, “Where’d that come from? We can’t have… Since when do you want kids?”

He Tian brought Guan Shan’s hand up to his mouth. Kissed the platinum ring there. “I don’t know. Why? Is it so bad to want more of you? Of us? To raise a bunch of brats together?”

_The fuck?_

“He Tian, you can’t just spring this on me. And _now,_ of all times? I have to get up at the ass-crack of dawn. And so do you, if you’re still planning to drive me to base.” Guan Shan could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, an uneasy and unsettled rhythm.

_Children?_ He couldn’t picture himself on night duty, changing diapers and measuring up feeds. On school runs, packing lunches and making small talk at soccer or swim practice. On prom night, snapping memories and setting curfews.

Taking He Tian’s hands in his own, Guan Shan squeezed. Gently. Urgently. “That isn’t us. We aren’t… ”

“We could be,” He Tian added, dimples popping. “I want us to be.”

And for all that Guan Shan couldn’t see himself as a father, fuck knew he wanted it too.


	17. TianShan x Drunk Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Drunk Goodbyes**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit language; drunken antics.

Guan Shan rarely drank to excess.

The last time He Tian had seen him this drunk Guan Shan had just returned from visiting his dad – a 40th birthday, a lifetime sentence, and fuck-all to celebrate.

He Tian wondered if intoxication translated to a loss of control, a fragility, that Guan Shan couldn’t afford. Or perhaps it was a licence he only rarely indulged in to set free emotions he could never do sober.

Either way, He Tian had been more than a little taken back when Guan Shan had chased his uninspired soda with He Tian’s Boulevardier. Ordering another. Then a double. Unbidden, the bartender had swapped what would have been Guan Shan’s fifth round with a tall glass of still water. He Tian’s appreciation had been a wordless nod, a movement made curt by his guilt.

Guilt because he hadn’t told Guan Shan he needed to slow down. But guiltier because Guan Shan had seen right through He Tian’s cavalier offer to meet for drinks and asked him straight up when he was leaving. And if was ever going to come back.

He Tian wasn’t sure what had given him away. But Guan Shan was startlingly perceptive like that; and He Tian loved and hated that about him in equal measure.

Punching in Guan Shan’s security code into the worn keypad, He Tian adjusted his hold around a slim waist. A warm, solid weight pressed into his side as Guan Shan leaned into him, mumbling something about 86ing the fucking scallops.

The familiar butterscotch and black pepper undertones of a well-balanced bourbon blended in with Guan Shan’s aftershave. A little faded now. A fragrant afterthought.

With his head bowed down, Guan Shan’s pale nape peaked out from the collar of He Tian’s bomber jacket, the sheared, red strands at his hairline evanescing into a short trail of fair, baby-fine hairs.

He Tian was torn between wanting to plant a kiss on the second lock of Guan Shan’s spine and wanting to throttle him for allowing himself to be this vulnerable. He was banking on Guan Shan’s default state of distrustfulness and defiance. To keep himself safe. To keep He Tian sane. Because, come oh-ass-hundred hours, He Tian would be thirty-five thousand feet in the air.

Destination: Classified. Mission: Classified. Date of Return: Fuck knows.

As He Tian half-carried, half-guided Guan Shan into the apartment, Guan Shan attempted to righten himself, knocking the top of his head against He Tian’s chin in the process.

“Ow, _fuck_.” Teeth clacking, He Tian’s grip around Guan Shan loosened a fraction. Just enough for Guan Shan to trip-turn and face him.

“Stay. Out.” The slurred words were in disconcerting contrast to the clarity in Guan Shan’s scarlet eyes.

Caught off guard, He Tian blinked a couple of times. “I’m not – I was just making sure you got home okay.”

With a soft groan, Guan Shan stumbled into He Tian’s chest then, clumsy hands clutching at He Tian’s dress shirt, a button or two popping off. Looking up, Guan Shan snapped, “Stay out... of my heart.” He Tian felt Guan Shan’s breath hitch, his eyes glazing over with emotion or inebriation. Or both. “Stay _the fuck_ out.”

His own sense of indignation stirring, He Tian grabbed Guan Shan’s wrists, snagging his hands free from the dismantled shirt. “Maybe you should’ve taken your own advice before you made yourself a home in mine.”

Guan Shan’s Adam’s apple bobbed with an audible swallow as a shudder skittered through him, and He Tian regretted his momentary display of anger. He didn’t want them to part ways like this. He didn’t want wounding words and wounded voices to be the last thing Guan Shan remembered of him. Of them.

“Come on,” He Tian whispered. “Let’s get you tucked in.”

But Guan Shan wasn’t listening, eyelids cast low as his gaze lingered over He Tian’s mouth. Rolling his incisors over his lower lip, Guan Shan leaned in close.

Only for He Tian to press an unyielding palm against his chest.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice strained. “Not like this.”

When Guan Shan titled his head upwards anyway, He Tian clenched his jaw and added, “You aren’t sober enough.”

“And you’re” – _hiccup_ – “stupid enough to think I’d ever kiss you if I was.”

Shaking his head, He Tian looked away from the fury contorting Guan Shan’s features. “Don’t hurt me like that.”

Guan Shan grabbed He Tian by the collar, bringing their faces close enough that He Tian could taste the damn Boulevardier he’d missed out on.

Throwing He Tian’s own words back at him, Guan Shan hissed, “Maybe _you_ should’ve taken your own fucking advice first.”


	18. TianShan x Fanart (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TianShan x Fanart (2)**
> 
> ※※※ Content Warnings ※※※
> 
> Explicit sexual content; explicit language.
> 
> ※※※ Author's Note ※※※
> 
> Inspired by this gorgeous WIP by Jenya on Tumblr [https://namenamejk.tumblr.com/post/190723737870/okay-i-progressed-a-bit-worked-on-their-hands]

Tonight.

It _had_ to be tonight.

And if Guan Shan kept telling himself that, he might – eventually – believe it. Even if the rest of him didn’t.

Because his knee landed on a thirty-thousand-dollar mattress a touch too heavy; his body leaned in an inch too close; and his exhale escaped like a secret shared.

He wasn’t surprised then, when the mark shifted in his sleep, eyes still closed. And even less surprised when a steady hand slid up the back of Guan Shan’s thigh with a hiss of cotton.

Three-day old stubble garnished high-rise cheekbones and a hard-cut jaw. A small, sleepy smile played on slim lips inclined to suggestive asides. Grey eyes twinkled as they peered up at Guan Shan between half-parted lids.

His rugged appearance unravelled the knot of arousal low in Guan Shan’s groin.

“You could use the front door, you know.” He Tian’s drawl was a drowsy rumble. “Or, like, call ahead.”

“Invitations are overrated.” Planting both knees on either side of He Tian’s waist, Guan Shan pushed his hood back. Unzipped his lightweight jacket. Shrugged out of it.

Bay windows and an enubilous night permitted a full moon to filter through unabated; a heliotropic hue bathed them both, reflecting off the lustre of He Tian’s tousled locks and off the platinum barbell through Guan Shan’s left nipple.

Rolling his lower lip into his mouth, He Tian raked his gaze down Guan Shan’s bare chest. “Like I could ever turn you down.”

Guan Shan lowered his pelvis. Rested his ass on He Tian’s crotch. Ground his hips a little.

He Tian’s moan was a breathtaking sound laced with laughter. “At least _pretend_ you want me for more than just my dick.”

Bemused, Guan Shan continued gyrating his hips. “And why would I do that?”

“So I –” He Tian arched his back with a groan when Guan Shan pressed down more firmly “– feel less like a slut.”

Since He Tian tended to sleep commando, there was nothing between them but the thin fabric of Guan Shan’s slimline joggers and a layer of freshly laundered linen. And Guan Shan could feel He Tian hardening under him. Hot. And heavy.

“So you’re not a...” Canting forward, Guan Shan eased up his torture on He Tian’s groin and trailed his hands up He Tian’s trunk – steely slopes and smooth summits. He brought his lips within kissing distance of He Tian’s and whispered, “...slut?”

Nostrils flaring, He Tian stared at Guan Shan’s mouth. Swallowed. “No. I don’t normally make a habit of having sex with strangers who slip in through my bedroom window.”

A non-committal hum. “Habits are hard to break.” Guan Shan smirked. “Especially when you _stop_ locking your windows.”

“Hell, just tell me your name and we can put an end to the slut-shaming,” He Tian grunted, skimming warm hands down the sides of Guan Shan’s torso. He gave Guan Shan’s waist a squeeze as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of well-worn joggers.

Guan Shan rolled his eyes. “Or you could just own it.”

A cheeky grin. Perfect teeth glinting in the moonlight. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He Tian craned his neck and Guan Shan met him half-way, pushing He Tian back into the pandemonium of plush, oversized pillows before their lips could lock.

“Stay down,” Guan Shan ordered. Then raked blunt fingertips down the expanse of He Tian’s pecs. Marking him. Making him hiss. Making him look up at Guan Shan with dark desire in his eyes. A look that reminded Guan Shan of that first night: a problematic stakeout, a botched job, and blowjobs in combat gear.

Guan Shan bent forward so that they were chest to chest, hands resting on He Tian’s shoulders. The rapid rhythm of He Tian’s heart reverberated through his own ribcage. A rhythm that stuttered when, languidly, Guan Shan licked the seam of He Tian’s lips.

He watched as He Tian’s tongue darted out to sample the same spot.

“More,” He Tian urged, his breathing growing heavy.

“Pull my pants down first,” Guan Shan directed.

Since Guan Shan’s legs were splayed on either side of He Tian’s hips, He Tian could only draw the joggers down to mid-thigh. But that was all that Guan Shan needed to free his semi and facilitate access to his ass.

Non-too gently, He Tian gave his glutes a squeeze, lips quirking when Guan Shan bit off a yelped curse. In retaliation, Guan Shan slithered a hand down He Tian’s abs, under the sheet and past the soft, short hairs at the base of his cock.

“Behave, slut.” He flicked He Tian’s tightly wound sac.

He Tian flung his head back, fingers digging into Guan Shan’s plump flesh. “ _Fuck._ ”

Guan Shan sealed their mouths together, timing it with a firm tug on He Tian’s swollen cock. The sob-sigh He Tian let out tasted like sin and the scorching burn of raw whiskey. Guan Shan felt his balls shift as he twined their slick, searing tongues together. He continued jacking He Tian off under the sheet, enjoying how the length grew firmer, thicker, in his hand.

The way it pulsed against his palm made his own cock stiffen.

The way precum leaked between his fingers made his mouth water.

Guan Shan gasped, “I want it inside me.”

He searched He Tian’s face for any sign that they should stop, or slow down.

“You know where the lube is,” He Tian replied after catching his breath, lips raw and rose-deep.

Guan Shan did know. He’d been in this bed too many times not to.

When he let go of He Tian and reached over to the nightstand, He Tian took the opportunity to latch onto his left nipple. Biting brutally around the barbell and drawing it further into his mouth, He Tian chuckled when Guan Shan winced.

“I’m starting to think you _like_ your balls being bashed,” Guan Shan remarked once he’d retrieved the familiar bottle of lube and a couple of rubbers from the top drawer.

He Tian’s eyes widened comically, and he released his hold on Guan Shan’s nipple with a lewd smack. “Only if you kiss them better afterwards,” he confessed, licking his wet lips.

The comment reminded Guan Shan of He Tian at a shoulder-rubbing work function, fraternising with women dressed in fiery shades of red. And, later that night, of He Tian bound and blindfolded, begging as Guan Shan edged him.

Of the intoxicating scent of sex, ball sweat and submission.

This was it. There wasn’t going to be another night.

Guan Shan hesitated a beat before placing the lube in He Tian’s palm.

Predictably, a look of puzzlement crossed He Tian’s face. “What...” The question hung in the air between them as he gripped the bottle. “You want me to...”

Instead of responding, Guan Shan leaned down and sucked He Tian’s lower lip, then pulled away when He Tian tried to kiss him back. Wordlessly, he mouthed at the strong line of He Tian’s jaw, the dusting of stubble bristling over his sensitised lips, making his toes curl and his cock twitch.

“Yeah,” Guan Shan finally whispered into He Tian’s ear, only half sure of himself.

He’d never handed over the reins to anyone like this before.

Sure, he’d had He Tian’s cock up his ass many a time; bottoming never felt like giving up control, especially when he was the one calling the shots, picking the angle, setting the pace. But having someone else’s fingers open him up? Stretching him, curling inside him, pegging his prostate...

Guan Shan didn’t want to ask He Tian if he knew what he was doing, if he’d done it before; it didn’t matter.

The mere thought of giving He Tian that kind of power made Guan Shan’s mouth dry up. Until he flicked a sideways glance at He Tian and saw the look in his eyes – hungry, heated, _harassed._

Guan Shan’s breath hitched, and he swallowed past the trepidation in his throat. “I want you to do it.”

This time, when He Tian titled his head, Guan Shan met him with a collision of moist lips and a crash of muffled moans.

Distantly, Guan Shan heard the bottle being uncapped, but he was too busy revelling in the way He Tian was ravishing his neck. And it was only when a lubed finger slid down his crack and circled his hole that Guan Shan stiffened.

“You okay?” He Tian asked, his face flushed.

Guan Shan nodded.  “Yeah. Yeah, I just...”

“You’re still in charge.” With his free hand, He Tian cupped the side of Guan Shan’s face. Traced Guan Shan’s upper lip with his thumb. “You’re the sexy stranger who tells me to cum and I’m the thirsty fuck who asks how hard.”

Biting down on a smile, Guan Shan lightly tapped his index finger against He Tian’s mouth. He slipped it between He Tian’s willing lips, but only to the second knuckle. After he let He Tian suck it once, he withdrew it slowly.

“Like this,” Guan Shan demonstrated.

He Tian hollowed his cheeks when Guan Shan’s finger made it inside his mouth again – further this time, almost all the way in. Slow, shallow thrusts. A slight twist.

“And, after the first finger, I like it a little rough,” Guan Shan admitted, plunging two fingers into He Tian’s hungry mouth.

Slide. Swirl. Slam.

And, when He Tian’s lids fluttered, Guan Shan pulled out with a slick pop. “I usually have to go up to three before I can... take you. But your fingers are thicker than mine, so.”

The look He Tian gave Guan Shan suggested he was already way past counting.

※   ※   ※

Tonight.

It _had_ to be tonight.

“Shit,” He Tian muttered under his breath, studying the beautiful man asleep in his bed.

He was wearing one of He Tian’s shirts, the white fabric vapid in contrast to the vibrant tones in his red hair. His sultry lips were lax, fresh bruises and stubble burn peppering his pale neck. His long legs tangled in sheets that smelled of sex, commercial lavender and He Tian’s spicy cologne.

_Ah, dammit._

He Tian had figured something was up when the redhead allowed himself to be finger-fucked into incoherency. But when he let He Tian eat him out? _And_ fuck him from behind?

There were very few, logical reasons a veteran assassin broke his own rules. And every single one of them spelled trouble.

When He Cheng had found out about the price on He Tian’s head, he upped He Tian’s personal protection detail and implemented additional security measures at the estate – neither of which He Tian deemed necessary. And like hell he was going to put up with an entourage of babysitters following him around.

But then the bodies of alleged mercenaries started surfacing sporadically around the city. The killings meant that few were willing to risk taking He Tian out. Consequently, the price on his head multiplied, and continued to do so with each subsequent murder. It was Qiu who had theorised that the killings alluded to someone eliminating the competition.

And, as He Tian eyed the elusive man, the pieces couldn’t have fit more perfectly.

“Shut up.” The redhead's voice, void of any slumber, cut into the late-night silence. “I can hear you thinking.”

Tongue heavy, heart heavier, He Tian replied, “I think it’s about time we talked. Don’t you?”


End file.
